Lex Talionis
by Kalsan
Summary: Someone’s need for justice has major repercussions for Grissom. Butterflied tie-in. GSR.
1. Chapter 3

**Lex Talionis**

Author: Kalsan

Summary: Someone's need for justice endangers a member of the team

Spoilers: Set early Season 7 so anything before that is fair game.

Disclaimer: CSI belongs to CBS, Alliance Atlantis, etc, etc.

**

* * *

**

Chapter 1

The call was logged by LVMPD at 2:48am and a squad car was dispatched to investigate. The caller had reported a body at the bottom of a disused mine shaft about 30 minutes north of the city.

It had been a quiet night in Vegas and therefore a quiet night at the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Sara Sidle and Greg Sanders were out working a B & E at Henderson, Gil Grissom, supervisor of the graveyard shift, had spent most of the previous day in court and therefore had the night off. The remaining three members of the team - Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes had spent much of the shift catching up on paperwork.

When the call came in that CSI's would be required at the mineshaft crime scene, Catherine quickly assigned herself as lead investigator (anything to relieve the boredom of paperwork) and left it up to her two younger colleagues to decide which of them would accompany her. After a quick round of Rock Paper Scissors Nick grabbed his kit and joined Catherine for the ride out.

Half an hour later the pulled up at the scene and were surprised to see so much activity in the area. The initial responding unit had been joined by another squad car, the coroner's van, a fire & rescue truck and an unmarked Ford Taurus they recognized as the one usually driven by Jim Brass.

Brass approached as they moved to the rear of the Denali to retrieve their kits.

"Hey Jim, what we got?" asked Catherine as she lifted her heavy case.

"DB about 30 feet down a shaft. Looks like he's been beaten and dumped. We got drag marks leading up to the shaft and footprints both going to and coming away from it. I had the guys tape off the whole area and we've marked our routes in and out. I put a call in for portable lighting - flashlights aren't lighting the shaft too well. Until that arrives we can't really decide on the best way to get the body out." Jim reported as the three walked towards the taped of area.

"Do these tire tracks belong to one of these vehicles, Jim?" asked Nick as he looked around the ground where they were standing.

"No, I already checked that with the uniforms, I'm guessing these tracks belong to whoever was out here tonight." Brass said as he turned to walk back to the parked cars.

The two CSI's walked carefully towards the shaft, following the same path as the police officers had and skirting around the sheet metal cover that had been pulled aside to uncover the shaft. After a careful scan of the immediate area to check for obvious evidence they peered over the side. Although they used quite powerful flashlights the darkness of the mineshaft still made it difficult to make out the very depths. They could see the body lying face down but the light was insufficient to make out anything else.

"Okay," Catherine said as she turned from the opening and scanned the surrounding area, "we'll get started processing up here. Nick, you take the footprints and tire tracks and I'll concentrate on the rest of it."

They were both soon busy with their individual tasks. Nick was photographing and taking plaster casts of what appeared to be four distinctly different shoeprints, he also made a cast of the tire tracks and judged by the size and tread pattern that they probably belonged to a van. Catherine meanwhile had been doing a grid search of the area immediately surrounding the shaft and had found a man's navy blue polo shirt, which she photographed and bagged, but not much else. She dusted the shaft's metal cover hoping for fingerprints but found none. Moving further out from the scene she came across a group of small rocks set in a circular pattern. They had obviously been placed there to contain a fire. Reaching down to feel the rocks Catherine found them to be slightly warm.

Walking back to the Denali to store the evidence, Catherine and Nick were just in time to see a truck pull up behind the group of vehicles; clearly the portable lighting had arrived.

"Find anything, Cath?" asked Brass as he sauntered towards her.

"I got a shirt that I'm guessing belongs to the victim." she stated "Apart from that, nothing really. I did find the remains of a small fire that doesn't feel as though it's been out long... could be our vic was camping out here, was ambushed and robbed and wasn't going to give up without a fight."

"Vagrant?" asked Jim.

"Not if that's his shirt. Good quality, almost new by the feel. Unless he stole it himself that is not the kind of shirt you'd find on a vagrant. Nick's got some great casts from the tire tracks and footprints, looks like we had at least four people moving around out here recently."

"Well, the lights will be on shortly so we'll at least get a better look at one of them." said Brass as he watched them placing the portable lighting around the top of the shaft.

Within minutes the generators where humming away and that area was bathed in light. With the ground around the mineshaft cleared of evidence the assemble group of professionals gathered near the hole to discuss the best way to retrieve the body. The general consensus being that Fire & Rescue would be lowered into the shaft and strap the body into a litter then it could be hauled up and out.

"A CSI is going to have to go down first." stated Catherine. "We'll have to photograph the body in place and process the floor for any evidence that could be lying around. Once that's been done someone else can come down and we'll get the body out then."

"I'll do it." said Nick, checking the pockets of his vest to ensure he had all the equipment he might need with him.

Catherine and Brass looked at him, both surprised at his decision to be the one to enter the shaft. Knowing that he still had problems going below ground since his kidnapping and interment in a Perspex coffin, Catherine had automatically assumed she would be the one lowered into the hole.

"Can I have a word with you Nick?" She turned and moved away from the group.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Nicky?" she asked as he joined her, "I have absolutely no problem going down there if you don't want to, you know."

"Thanks for offering but I can do this Cath. When we had that case with the doomsday cult in the bunker, I spent so much time down there that after a while I found it wasn't affecting me anymore. This is just 30 feet or so and I can always look up and see the lights so there shouldn't be any problem.

"Well, as long as you're sure, but while you're down there we'll keep the radios open, at least that way no one will have to shout to be heard."

Within minutes Nick was introduced to Paul and Steve from Fire and Rescue and had been set up with a harness and then lowered into the shaft. The descent went quite quickly and he was surprised when he felt the ground underneath his feet. He uncoupled his harness from the rope and watched as it was pulled upwards again – his kit would be sent down next.

"How you doing, Nick?" Catherine's voice echoed somewhat in the shaft as she spoke into the open radio.

"Fine, Cath, no problem at all." the Texan replied as he began looking around.

The victim was laying on his front, his face turned slightly towards the wall of the shaft, the back of his head covered in dried blood. The left leg was lying at such an unnatural angle it was clearly broken. His uncovered back was covered in bruises and it was obvious he had been badly beaten.

Nick recited his initial findings into his radio.

"Victim is wearing blue jeans and white sport socks, no shirt, no shoes. Hard to tell age at this point but maybe late forties to early fifties. Looks to have taken a beating before he ended up down here."

"Heads up, Nick" Jim Brass's voice cut through and Nick looked up to see his kit being lowered down. He removed his camera and began taking photos of the undisturbed scene.

He was taking a close-up of the right arm when he noticed fibers in a deep abrasion that seemed to run most of the way around the wrist.

"He's been tied up at some point; there are fibers on his wrist that look consistent with a rope." He said as he carefully tweezed a few loose and placed them carefully into a bindle.

It was as he was kneeling next to the body that he heard a very faint moan.

"Catherine" he called as he very carefully placed his fingers on the man's neck to check for a pulse.

"Yeah Nick" she replied.

He moved his fingers slightly and found it – a very weak pulse "This guy's alive! He moaned and I found a pulse. You've got to get some help down here."

"Hang on Nick, its coming" she said into the radio as the Rescue guys scrambled to break out more equipment and Brass called in that a medevac chopper was going to be required.

"Make sure he doesn't move him." Paul said to Catherine. "Have him talk to the guy in case he can hear but don't move him, I'll be down there in a couple of minutes."

She relayed the message to Nick who quickly packed his kit away while reassuring the victim that help was on the way.

Within minutes he heard noises coming from above and looked up to see Paul descending the shaft.

"Any response?" he asked as he freed himself from the rope and removed his backpack then moved to kneel beside the victim, feeling for a pulse himself.

"Nothing at all since that first moan" Nick replied.

"Okay, the stretcher's coming down next. When it gets here you're going to have to give me a hand getting him into it. We'll have to get him up to the surface as soon as possible. There's nothing apart from this leg that looks as though it can't wait until he's up there. Hand me the backpack please, Nick."

As he was speaking he gently felt along the leg then began moving it into a more natural looking position, he then removed a splint from his backpack and carefully applied it to the injured limb. He also managed to place a cervical collar securely around the man's neck.

Nick moved to grab the stretcher as it was lowered down towards them and carefully maneuvered it in the small space.

"Get the backboard out, Nick and place it next to him so we can roll him onto it first." Paul instructed and Nick hurried to comply. He then took up a position by the victim's hip while Paul remained near his head. "We've got to try to keep him as still as possible as we do this Nick; we don't know what other injuries he's got. We'll strap him onto the board then into the litter and up to the surface. Hopefully by that time the helicopter will be here."

"On the count of three, all right Nick?" Paul asked.

"All set." Nick replied as he placed his hands to support the splinted limb as they moved him.

"One… two… three" Both men carefully turned the victim so that he now lay face up on the back board. They quickly began tying him down with straps that were attached to the board at head, chest, pelvis and ankle positions, and made sure that the left leg was completely immobilized.

Paul quickly checked his pulse and was pleased to see his patient was breathing a bit easier after the change of position. He was covered in a thick mixture of blood and dirt however Paul could still make out the extensive bruising that covered his exposed skin. He examined a deep laceration above the left eye that was still seeping blood and decided to dress it before they returned him to the surface.

As he was about to secure the chest strap he noticed what appeared to be a large burn in the middle of the man's chest and bent closer to get a better look. He removed a dressing pad from his pack and after soaking it with sterile water gently dabbed some of the dirt from the wound.

"Take a look at this and tell me what you think it is, will you?" He asked turning to glance at Nick.

The CSI moved up to look at the burn.

"Man, I know exactly what that is – he's been branded!" He grabbed his camera and took several photos of the wound.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Paul replied, covering the area with a burn dressing and adjusting the chest strap so it wasn't to near the wound.

"Chopper's 5 minutes out" Catherine voice came over the radio.

"We won't be much longer down here" Paul advised as he and Nick lifted the backboard into the litter.

"If you make sure he's properly strapped in, Nick, I'll just dress this head wound."

Removing more dressings from his pack, he carefully wiped as much blood and dirt from the surrounding area as he could and covered the 3 inch gash with a sterile pad and tape.

Nick secured the last strap and stood up ready to assist Paul with moving the litter into position to be lifted back to the surface.

"He'll be ready to be hauled out in just a sec, Cath." He said into the radio as he looked down towards Paul and the victim.

"What the Hell?" He bent closer to the litter to make sure he was actually seeing correctly. "Oh my God!"

Instantly he was surrounded by voices - Brass and Catherine both speaking into their radios and Paul beside him. All demanding to know what had caused his outburst.

All Nick could do was stare at the face that Paul had uncovered when he'd cleaned away the blood and soil that had obscured it. The bruising was extensive and there was also a lot of swelling but Nick knew he wasn't mistaken – he knew this man.

"Nick, what is it? What's the matter?" The anxiety in Catherine's voice came clearly over the radio.

He felt numb, suddenly none of this felt real. He almost laughed out loud at how unbelievable it was but he managed to control that urge and finally answered her.

"Catherine, it's Grissom".

TBC


	2. Chapter 4

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 2**

_Eight hours earlier_

It had been a long day, or to be more precise, a long night and day.

After working his usual shift at the lab, Grissom had spent all morning sitting outside a courtroom waiting to give evidence only to be told that due to delays he wouldn't actually be called to testify until sometime that afternoon.

Thankfully when he did eventually get into the witness box his appearance was over quickly – the defense obviously deciding it was pointless trying to discredit one of the country's foremost crime scene investigators or the forensic evidence he was there to present.

It was just before 4pm when he arrived home. He moved towards the kitchen, dropping his briefcase by the sofa and toeing off his shoes on the way. Opening the refrigerator he grabbed a bottle of water and decided against food – what he really wanted was a shower and sleep.

Entering the bedroom he stood for a moment and watched as Sara, still asleep, turned over to face his direction almost as if she were attuned to his presence in the room. However, as tempting as both Sara and their bed looked he desperately needed that shower.

He quietly moved around the room, removing his suit and dress shirt and leaving them draped across the chair that occupied one corner of the master bedroom. He grabbed a clean t-shirt and boxers and entered the en suite bathroom.

Ten minutes later he exited, crossed to the bed and gratefully eased himself into it.

Sara had turned again and now lay with her back to him so he moved to lie behind her, wrapped his arm over her waist and was almost instantly asleep.

The alarm went off at 7.30pm and Grissom awoke feeling fairly refreshed for someone that had slept for less than 3 hours. Reaching over to turn it off he felt Sara begin to stir beside him. A pair of brown eyes opened and a smile slowly appeared on her face as she regarded him. He smiled back and leaned down to kiss her.

"Good evening"

"Good evening to you too." she replied as she snuggled closer. "What time did you get home?"

"Around 4. The DA assured me that I'd be called to testify early; instead I didn't get in there until almost 3 in the afternoon. Thank God I made sure I have tonight off."

"Well, some of us aren't that lucky." Sara said as she climbed from the bed and headed towards the bathroom.

Grissom relaxed in the bed as he listened to the water running in the shower. Ten minutes later Sara reentered the room to find him dressed in jeans and a shirt and pulling on a pair of socks.

"Why are you getting up?" she asked as she finished towel drying her hair.

"I've slept enough for now. I thought I'd check my email and catch up on some reading. Do you want a meal before you head out?" he offered.

"No thanks" she replied "But I'd kill for a coffee!"

"Coming right up" Grissom quipped as he left the room.

Sara entered the kitchen to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Having heard her coming Grissom had poured 2 cups and turned holding one out to her. She took it gratefully.

"Why are you going in so early?" he asked her as he sipped from his cup.

"Greg's been after me to join him for a meal before shift every night for the past week. I guess he's feeling neglected. I thought I'd better take him up on it before he starts asking questions again. I do find it funny that of everyone on the team it's the least experienced of them that seems to be the only one to suspect anything."

"Greg's suspicions I can handle" replied Gil, "it's Jim's smugness at being the only one to know that drives me up the wall."

"Okay." Sara said as she drained her cup "I gotta go." Stepping closer him she leaned in for a kiss then turned and grabbed her purse and keys. "Though I'm sure I'll get more of an interrogation than a meal!" With that she was gone.

Grissom poured himself another cup of coffee and waited for the computer to boot. He spent the next two hours answering emails and paying bills that were due and was surprised when he looked up to see it was almost 10:30pm.

If they'd both been home he would have happily cooked a meal but since he was alone and hungry he decided to order in a pizza.

He turned on the TV and flicked through the channels until he came across an old movie he hadn't seen in years. Just as he decided he couldn't be bothered sitting through it again the doorbell rang.

It never occurred to him that it was too soon for the pizza delivery.

He blindly opened the door and didn't stand a chance of avoiding the fist as it swung towards his face.

TBC


	3. Chapter 5

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 3**

Catherine looked at Jim Brass and saw on his face the same look she imagined was present on her own, shock and confusion.

"I'm sorry, Nick, you're going to have to repeat that?" She said into her radio.

"It's Grissom, Cath! I've been down here for almost 20 minutes with my boss lying unconscious next to me and I never noticed it was him!

* * *

Using the winch on the front of the Fire & Rescue vehicle they slowly pulled the litter back up out of the shaft.

Reaching out to grab hold of it as it began appearing, Jim gasped in shock as he first caught sight of his friend. Although he knew from Nick's description that Grissom had been severely beaten he wasn't prepared for what he saw.

The dressing on his forehead stood out in stark contrast to the bruises and dirt that covered much of his face. Both eyes were swollen and black, the left particularly bad with a sunken dent showing beneath it. His nose was clearly broken and there was swelling and discoloration along both sides of his jaw. A large dressing covered the middle of his chest and much of the rest of his upper body was covered in contusions.

They placed the litter on the ground a short distance from the shaft. Two of the uniformed officers returned to the winch to assist Paul and Nick with their return to the surface while Steve readjusted the splint on Grissom's left leg.

Catherine moved to stand beside Brass, both continuing to stare at their friend and colleague.

"How did this happen, Jim? Why would someone do this to him? My God, look at his face – it's no wonder Nick didn't realize who it was."

The sound of an approaching helicopter had them looking skyward. The running lights of the air ambulance just visible in the distance.

Nick, finally out of the mineshaft, hurried towards them. Dropping to his knees beside his boss he watched as Steve applied gauze to the abrasions that encircled both of Grissom's wrists. "How is he?" he asked hopefully.

"Pulse and breathing both seem stable at the moment. Looks like he handled the trip up the shaft well. I'm worried about that leg though – the pulse in his foot is pretty weak. The sooner we can get him to hospital the better.

Both men looked up as the helicopter landed fifty feet away.

After relaying the details of Grissom's condition to the medical retrieval team, the litter was lifted and carried across to the waiting chopper.

As Brass and the two criminalists looked on the flight nurse quickly inserted an IV line, placed an oxygen mask carefully over Grissom's face and connected him to a monitor.

Everyone moved back as the helicopter door was pulled closed and the engine restarted. They watched as it rose and turned south, back towards Vegas.

* * *

After stashing their kits in the back of their vehicle, the two CSIs stood waiting for Jim to join them.

"I'm going to have to call Ecklie." Catherine said as Brass approached. "He'll probably want to hand this off the Days."

She didn't have to see Nick's face to know what he was thinking; Grissom was one of their own and as such they should be the ones to work his case. It was a point she intended to raise with Conrad.

"Nick, give Warrick a call. Let him know what's happened and have him get to Desert Palms ASAP. We're 30 minutes out; if he's still at the lab he can be there in 5. I want someone on hand in case Grissom comes to. I'll call Sara and Greg as soon as I've spoken to Ecklie."

Knowing the truth about his friends relationship was soon to become public, Brass had no intention of being the one to announce it to the world but he didn't want Sara finding out about Grissom's condition by having Catherine unknowingly blurt it out to her

"I'll give Sara a call, Cath. You know she's always had a thing for Gil, it might be better if I broke it to her gently"

"Okay, Jim. She and Greg were o a case in Henderson. Have them meet us at the hospital."

Catherine climbed into the passenger side of the Denali and impatiently waited for Nick to finish his call to Warrick.

"He's leaving for the hospital now." Nick said as he closed his cell and climbed behind the wheel of the large SUV.

"Nick, hang on a minute." Jim walked closer to the driver's door. "When you were down there with Grissom, did I hear you say something about him having been branded?"

"Yeah, that's what's under the dressing on his chest. Whoever did this wasn't content to just beat the man half to death; they branded him before dropping him down there."

"So," Jim said "it's definitely looking like this was a targeted attack against Grissom and not just a random assault."

Oh, I don't think there was anything random about it, Jim." Nick replied as he reached into the back to retrieve his kit.

Removing his digital camera he turned it on and scrolled through the shots he had taken in the shaft. Coming to one that displayed the burn on Grissom's chest, he offered the camera to Catherine.

"What does that look like to you, Cath?"

Catherine paled as she looked at the photo; she just hoped her friend had already been unconscious when this had been inflicted.

She lifted her head and looked at Jim Brass as she informed him what it was that had been burned into Gil's chest – a butterfly.

* * *

Catherine and Nick had left for the hospital five minutes ago. Jim Brass sat in his Taurus dreading the call he was about to make. He opened his cell phone and dialed Sara's number.

She had obviously checked the caller ID before answering and sounded pleased to hear from her favorite detective.

"Hey Jim, how are you?"

"I'm good, Sara. Um, where are you just now?" Brass asked hesitantly.

"Greg and I are heading back to the lab. Please don't tell me you need us at another scene; shift's almost over and it's been a long enough night as it is."

"I don't need you at a scene but I do need you to head over to Desert Palms straight away."

Picking up on the trepidation in his voice, visions of a crime scene gone bad running through her head, Sara fearfully asked her next questions.

"What's happened, Jim? Did something happen to one of the guys?"

"No, no the guys are fine. We were called out to a body dump in the desert and when we got there we found the victim still alive. It's Gil, Sara"

"That can't be! He's at home, Jim. It's his night off. It can't be Grissom!"

"I'm sorry, Sara I saw him myself. You really need to get…" Jim heard the phone being dropped on the other end, a few seconds later he found himself talking to Greg.

"Brass – what's happened? Sara's just sitting here she won't tell me anything."

Jim quickly filled him in on the night's events.

"Look Greg, Sara and Grissom have been-" Greg cut him off mid-sentence.

"Yeah, I guessed that a while ago. I've been trying to get Sara to admit it to me for weeks now. I don't know if anybody else knows though."

"I don't think it's going to be a secret for much longer but for now we'll play it by ear and see what happens, okay? In the meantime get her to the hospital, Greg. I think he's going to need her there."

I'll make sure she gets there, Jim. I'll take care of her."

"Thanks, Greg. I'm leaving the scene now. I'll be there myself in about a half hour."

Greg closed the cell phone and turned to Sara who was staring blankly through the windscreen.

"You alright?" he asked.

"No, I not really sure that I am." She replied woodenly. "Well, I guess you can stop with all the questions now, you have your confirmation."

"Not really the way I wanted to find out though. Come on; let's get you to the hospital."

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 6

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 4**

Pulling into the car park of Desert Palms, Greg noticed Warrick Brown's SUV parked near the entrance. Turning into an empty space a few rows away he shut off the vehicle and turned to Sara. "Ready to go?"

Although both she and Gil had wanted to keep their relationship quiet for the moment, Sara knew that was no longer going to be possible. Brass and Greg already knew and the others would find out shortly. _So be it,_ she thought _the only important thing now is Gil._

Entering the ER waiting room they looked around expecting to see Warrick. When there was no sign of him Sara approached the nurses' desk.

"I need to find out about a patient."

"Name?"

"Doctor Gilbert Grissom, he was being brought in by helicopter."

"Ah, yes. Can I ask your name and relationship to him?"

"I'm Sara Sidle, we live together, he's my partner."

Greg looked up in surprise. Although he'd guessed they were in a relationship he didn't think it had extended this far.

After consulting her computer screen the nurse informed them that the helicopter had arrived ten minutes earlier and the medical team were currently assessing Grissom's condition.

"I'll get you to fill in these forms while you're waiting and as soon as the doctor's available I'll have him come out to speak with you, Miss Sidle."

Sara took the proffered forms and she and Greg found seats that gave them a clear view of both the entrance and the nurses' desk. A few minutes later they were joined by Warrick who had been off in search of coffee.

"Any news yet?" he asked as he took a seat opposite Greg.

"Just that they were examining him. Someone will be out to talk to us soon. Do you know what happened to him, Rick? Brass didn't really give us any detail when he phoned; he just said they found him in the desert."

"I didn't get much more from Nick. All I know is he was found at the bottom of a shaft or something." Warrick answered watching as Sara went over and returned the completed forms to the desk.

The doors of the entrance opened admitting Catherine and Nick, seeing their seated colleagues that hurried over.

"How is he?" Nick enquired anxiously as he and Catherine joined them.

"We haven't heard anything yet. One of you want to tell us what happened?" Warrick asked the new arrivals. Quickly Catherine filled them in.

"I spoke to Ecklie on the way here. I finally got him to agree to let us handle the case. He's sending Thompson and Greene from Days out to the scene now to finish processing it; we sort of gave up on that as soon as we found out Grissom was the vic. By the time they get there it'll be light so they may be able to turn up something we missed."

She looked up as the glass doors of the entrance opened and Jim Brass entered.

"You made good time, Jim. No news yet; they're still examining him."

Brass took a seat and looked around the group. This was the third time in fifteen months they'd gathered here, first for Nick, then himself and now for Gil.

They sat making small talk for over an hour and a half. Nick and Warrick had just left on a coffee run and Greg had gone outside for some fresh air when Sara suddenly shot to her feet having seen a doctor heading towards them.

"Sara Sidle? I'm Dr. Gardiner. I've been treating Dr. Grissom since he arrived."

"How is he?" she asked anxiously.

"He's hasn't regained consciousness yet but scans have cleared him of any serious head injury. The worst damage is to his left leg. X-rays show two bad fractures; one midway down the thigh and another just above the ankle. We keep losing the pulse in that foot so it's imperative we get the circulation restored as soon as possible. We'll be taking him up to surgery shortly but if you follow me I'll let you have a few minutes with him before he goes up and I'll go over his other injuries with you."

He turned and began walking back to the treatment room. Sara glanced quickly at Brass and Catherine and hurried after the doctor.

Stunned, Catherine stared after her then turned to look at Brass.

"Jim, did I miss something?" she asked sarcastically.

Sara stood in the threshold of the treatment room, almost reluctant to enter. She'd sat silently in the waiting room listening to Nick and Catherine's descriptions of Grissom's condition at the mineshaft and feared what she would find if she went closer.

Dr. Gardiner, noticing her apprehension, urged her forward.

"It's okay. He's fine just now. If you stand at that side of him you can hold his hand and let him know you're here."

She cautiously neared the gurney. Grissom lay still among a collection of wires and tubes. He was covered from the ribs down by a sheet; the bulk of the splint on his leg evident beneath it. His chest and face had been cleaned of dirt and blood and the bruises that covered him stood out vividly. She could just make out a shaved area near the crown of his head that held a line of surgical staples.

Sara carefully reached over and took his hand as best she could. She'd certainly seen worse beatings during her career but this was different, none of the victims had meant this much to her.

"My God, Gil. What on Earth happened to you?" she asked quietly.

"We're just waiting for the orthopedic surgeon to arrive." Dr. Gardiner explained. "He'll decide when he's seen the x-rays how he wants to repair the fractures. While they've got him under anesthetic we've arranged for one of the plastic surgeons to stitch the gash on his forehead and they'll also set the broken nose. He has a fractured eye socket, which will mean another trip to surgery but probably not for another week or so until the swelling has gone down."

"What about his chest? They said he'd been branded." Sara raised her eyes to look at the doctor.

"Yeah, I got one of the doctors from the burns unit down to look at it. They'll begin treatment later today after his surgery. In the meantime we've got him started on IV antibiotics because we're worried about the risk of infection. Apart from all that the only other potential problem could be damage to his kidneys. He's certainly been hit or kicked repeatedly in the area and there's blood in his urine. We'll keep a close eye on it and, with some luck, it'll settle down itself."

"Does anyone know why this was done to him?" he asked

"No. We all work at the Crime Lab; we're assuming its payback of some sort." She reached out to touch his face but drew back, afraid of causing any further pain; instead she raised Grissom's hand slightly and bent to kiss it when something caught her eye.

"Okay, well I'll leave you alone for a few minutes while I go and see if they're ready for him upstairs." Dr. Gardiner turned to leave but stopped when Sara spoke.

"Doctor, could you ask one of our friends in the waiting room to come in here and bring their kit with them?"

"Sure, why?"

"Looking at Gil's hands I think he fought back. There's skin under his fingernails and it looks like he may have caught someone's teeth with his knuckles. If we take a swab there's a chance we'll be able to recover DNA."

TBC


	5. Chapter 7

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 5**

Sara was still holding Grissom's hand when Catherine entered carrying her kit. She carefully moved up the other side of the gurney and stopped to look down at the man she had always considered to be one of her best friends. At the mineshaft she had kept back, out of the way of the paramedics tending to him and so had not really seen him close up. Standing on his left side she was able to get a good look at his face and particularly his eye and cheekbone, which were a spectacular shade of black.

"My God!" she exclaimed. "Whoever they were they really meant business! How's he doing, Sara?"

"He's stable. Still hasn't regained consciousness. They'll be taking him in to surgery shortly."

"Dr. Gardiner said you wanted one of us in here with a kit?"

"Yeah, he's got skin under his fingernails and it looks like some of the scrapes on his knuckles could be from someone's teeth."

"Okay, you know the drill, if you want to hold his hand out flat for me I'll take some photos and then I'll do the collection." She removed her camera from her kit and began adjusting the focus. She glanced sideways at Sara and noticed that she never took her eyes of Gil.

"How long, Sara?"

"How long what?"

"How long have the two of you been together?"

Sara thought for a moment. "About fifteen months."

Catherine looked up from her camera, amazed.

"Wow! You know, looking back I can see it; the changes in both of you. You became more… self-assured, confident and Gil started opening up again. He no longer seemed to be so self-contained. It looks like you're good for each other.

Sara was surprised at this comment. Given the difficult relationship she had, at times, shared with Catherine and the older woman's long-time friendship with Grissom; Sara had assumed she would disapprove.

"I thought you'd be mad."

"Mad, no… embarrassed, yes. Here I am; a highly trained investigator for all these years and I completely miss something as big as this. Hell, we all did."

"Um, not quite."

"Who knew?" She gently swabbed Grissom's knuckles then scraped beneath his nails as Sara held his hand out for her.

"Jim first; he picked it up almost straight off the bat. He refuses to say how he found out but he had cornered both of us within a week."

"You said Jim first so who else?"

"Greg, although he didn't actually get confirmation until this happened."

Catherine wasn't overly surprised to learn this. Greg had always been observant when it came to Sara.

"So Nick and Warrick don't know?"

"They've never said or hinted at anything so unless Greg or Brass have told them today, I guess not."

"Well, as soon as Gil's in surgery I was going to send them by to check out his home to see if that's where this all started. We better tell them before they head over; I'm guessing they'd probably find some evidence of your relationship."

She began packing the evidence and her camera away in her kit.

"Since I've been living there for the past ten months, yeah, I guess they would."

Catherine turned to look fully at Sara then narrowed her eyes.

"Man, the pair of you must have gone home after each shift and had a good laugh at us – the crack CSI team that's completely blind to what's going on under their noses." She said facetiously, trying to lighten the atmosphere in the room.

Suddenly Sara felt the hand she held in hers move.

"Griss!"

She changed her hold on Grissom's hand to allow him to grasp hers. Catherine watched as the grip he now had on Sara tightened as she continued to urge him awake.

"Come on, babe, wake up for me."

"Sara." His voice was weak and slurred; the pain clearly evident as he spoke.

"Cath, could you see if Dr. Gardiner's around please."

Catherine quickly left the treatment room and returned seconds later with the doctor.

"Sara… pizza… money."

Dr. Gardiner rapidly scanned the monitors then turned his attention to his patient.

"Dr. Grissom, can you open your eyes for me?"

One eye opened partially while the other couldn't be seen at all through the swelling that surrounded it.

"Dr. Grissom, do you know where you are?"

"Pizza… table."

His right eye closed and the grip on Sara's hand slackened as he lost consciousness again.

"Well that was weird." Catherine looked up at the doctor.

"He's not making a lot of sense at the moment but he did open his eyes when I asked him to, so that's good. The surgeon's coming down now; he wants to check the swelling in his leg before he decides what to do."

"I'll head back out to the waiting room and let the guys know what's happening." Catherine said as she moved towards the door.

Moments later a second doctor entered.

"Ms. Sidle, I'm Dr. Morgan, I'll be operating on Dr. Grissom.

"Please call me Sara, and I'm sure he'd appreciate it if you'd called him Grissom; he rarely uses either the title or his first name."

"Okay Sara, I'll just have a look at this leg of his and then I'll be able to let you know exactly how we'll fix it."

He lifted the sheet covering Grissom's leg and gently felt around his lower leg and ankle.

"Well, the thigh is pretty straight forward. We make incisions above and below the fracture as well as one where the actual break is. Then we insert what's called an intramedullary rod into the center of the bone at both ends of the break. When the bone is realigned we secure it with screws at either end then stitch it up."

Sara nodded her understanding as the doctor continued.

"The lower leg is a bit more complicated. It's this fracture that's been causing all the problems with the circulation in his foot, so we have to sort that out before we do anything else. He has what's called a tibial plafond fracture. It's towards the end of the shin bone just above the ankle. Because there's not a lot of muscle or soft tissue in that area when it swells as Grissom's has we can't really operate on it properly. What we'll do, as a temporary measure, is an external fixation. We put a couple of screws into the bone on both sides of the fracture then secure them on the outside of the skin with an external frame. It'll look as though we've attached scaffolding to his leg but his ankle will be completely immobilized and we'll be able to monitor the swelling. Once that subsides we can go in and line up the bone fragments and put it all back together with plates and screws."

"How long do you think the surgery will take, Doctor?"

"It'll probably take around two to two and a half hours; the plastic surgeon should be able to start doing his work before we're finished. Then he'll be in recovery for an hour or so before he's taken to a room. If you're coming upstairs with him I'll have one of the nurses show you to the surgical waiting room."

"Your friends were asking when they'd be able to see him; I'll just go out and let them know that we're about to bring him out." Dr. Gardiner left the room as Dr. Morgan and a nurse began getting Grissom ready for the move.

As Catherine entered the .waiting room the four men present stood apprehensively.

"What happened, Catherine? Is Gil alright?" Brass looked anxiously at her.

"Yeah, Cath, you came flying out here, grabbed the doc then went racing back; we've been worried ever since." Warrick added.

"Sorry, guys. He's fine; he just woke up for a bit."

"Did he say anything about what happened?"

"No, he wasn't actually making much sense. He mentioned pizza and money and then lost consciousness again; still the doctor seemed pleased so that's something. The surgeon's with him now and then I guess they'll take him up to the OR"

"Where's Sara, Cath? Why didn't she come out with you? Nick asked.

Catherine noticed both Jim and Greg watching her; obviously waiting to hear what she'd say.

"Ah… yeah, we all need to have a little talk." She sat in the nearest chair and was quickly joined by the others. "It seems that for quite a while now two members of our team have been keeping a secret from the rest of us."

Catherine looked at Nick and Warrick to gauge their reactions so far; Nick was sitting patiently waiting for her to continue while Warrick was slowly nodding his head, a smile appearing on his face.

"Did you know, Warrick?"

"No. I'd noticed that the tension had eased around them and they seemed to be getting along better but I never would have guessed they were getting along _that_ well. Can't say I'm too surprised though."

"You mean Sara and Griss have been seeing each other?" Nick looked from Warrick back to Catherine. "Man, after all this time I didn't think they'd ever have the guts to go for it."

"It's a little more than seeing each other, Nick. Apparently they've been living together for almost a year."

"Just when you think you know people." Warrick chuckled. "Hang on, why don't you two look surprised?" He glared at Jim and Greg.

"I've known from the beginning, Rick. The only thing that's surprised me about the whole relationship is that none of you ever found out." Brass smiled smugly. "And you call yourselves professionals."

"Excuse me" Greg interrupted. "I suspected ages ago and I've been hounding Sara about it ever since.

"Okay, look, we can play who's the better investigator later." Catherine turned to address Nick and Warrick. "The reason I told you now is that I need the pair of you to head over to Grissom's townhouse and check it out. It's possible this whole thing kicked off there. I know you're off the clock but it's got to be done and I'd rather we did it than someone from Days; they'd just go running to Ecklie with news of this relationship and I don't know how Gil and Sara want to handle that just now."

As she finished speaking Dr. Gardiner appeared next to her seat. They all stood as he spoke.

"Thought you'd want to know that they'll be bringing him out in a second. If you want to see him before surgery, now's your chance."

"Thanks, Doc, for letting us know and also for everything you've done for Gil." Brass lent over to shake his hand.

Just then the gurney appeared, being guided by Dr. Morgan and a nurse. Sara was walking alongside. They stopped as the group moved towards them.

"Damn!" Warrick said softly as he caught sight of Grissom's battered face.

"Yeah." Brass agreed. "I didn't think he could look much worse that he did at the mineshaft; guess I was wrong."

"You holding up, Sara?" Greg moved to stand beside her.

"I'm fine, Greg, but I'll be a lot better when he's out of surgery and awake."

"Well then," Dr. Morgan addressed the group "we'd better get him up there. You'll all be able to see him again this afternoon after we've got him settled in a room."

With that they maneuvered the gurney into the elevator and the team continued to watch until the doors closed.

"Shit!" Nick exclaimed. "I should have realized it was him sooner."

"It wouldn't have made any difference, Nick, don't beat yourself up over it." Catherine advised him. "Right, Greg, ask the nurse for the clothes Grissom was wearing and take them and the other evidence back to the lab and have them get started on it. Then go home and get some sleep; I think it's going to be a long couple of days."

"You two" she turned towards Nick and Warrick "head over to the townhouse; see what you can find."

"I'll meet you over there." Brass retrieved his car keys from his pocket.

"Thanks, Jim. I'm going to go upstairs and wait with Sara; I don't think she should be alone right now. Ecklie said he was coming by and the least I can do is try and keep him and Sara apart."

TBC


	6. Chapter 8

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 6**

Catherine stopped at a vending machine she came across on the way to the surgical waiting room. She was rummaging in her purse for change when a familiar figure came around the corner from the elevator.

"Catherine! How's Gil? I asked downstairs and they told me to come up here to Surgical." Conrad Ecklie came to a stop a few feet from the machine.

"They're operating now, Conrad." She sorted through the coins in her hand until she came up with the amount needed.

"So, what's the damage?"

"As far as I know; a badly broken leg, facial fractures, cuts, bruises and not forgetting the burn on his chest. I was with him for a while and he was awake briefly but I'm not sure he knew where he was." She inserted coins in the slot and pressed the button for coffee.

"So we haven't been able to get any information from him?"

"No, Conrad, and I don't think he's going to be in any condition to answer question today at least. How did Greene and Thompson go out at the scene?"

"They found another set of fresh tire tracks about fifty feet away on the other side of the campfire so it looks like there was another vehicle involved but they didn't find anything else."

Ecklie watched as Catherine bent down and retrieved the filled cup from the dispenser and began inserting more coins.

"So, the rest of the team's in the waiting room?"

"No, Greg's taking the evidence we've collected so far back to the lab and I've sent Nick and Warrick to Gil's townhouse to see if they can find anything; since it was his night off I'm hoping he was at home when this began. Sara's the only other one here at the moment." She decided not to elaborate further.

"Why am I not surprised?" Catherine ignored Ecklie's sarcasm; she was hoping that Sara's presence would actually chase the man away. She didn't have to wait long.

"Well, unfortunately I can't stay; someone's got to keep the lab running smoothly. Give me a call when Gil gets out of surgery and let me know how everything went, okay?"

She watched as he turned and headed back down the corridor to the elevator.

_Self-important ass!_ She thought to herself as she picked up the second cup of coffee and went off in search of Sara.

Nick and Warrick pulled up to the curb outside Grissom's townhouse followed moments later by Jim Brass. The CSI's collected their kits from the rear of their SUV and the three headed into the complex. Suddenly Brass came to a stop.

"Does that look like blood to you?" He pointed to several spots that marred the concrete ahead.

"Yeah, it does." Warrick bent down for a closer look. "No points for guessing who that belongs to. I think we may have found our primary crime scene."

"There's more up ahead." Nick had moved further along the path and began following the trail; unsurprised when it led to Grissom's front door.

"I want you guys to wait out here until I've cleared the place." Brass said as he removed his gun from its holster. "I really don't think anyone's still in there but better to be safe than sorry."

He reached out with a gloved hand to try the door and found it unlocked. Pushing it open he peered cautiously into the entry then edged carefully inside.

Nick and Warrick were standing just to the side of the door, waiting for clearance when they noticed a woman hurrying towards them. Warrick quickly moved to intercept her before she came any closer.

"Whoa, Ma'am, is there something I can help you with?"

"I'm Anna Muir; I live in the townhouse across from here with my husband. I saw you arrive and thought I'd better hurry over. I've been worried all night. Is Grissom alright?"

"Mrs. Muir, I'm Warrick Brown, I work with Grissom. Can I ask when you last saw him?"

"Well, last night, of course. Every Wednesday night my sister and I meet up and go to see a movie. I had just gotten home when I noticed two men helping Grissom out to their van. They almost had to carry him. I rushed over to see if I could help. He was bleeding quite badly. They said he'd slipped in the kitchen and hit his head on the bench top. I offered to call for an ambulance but they said it would be quicker if they took him to hospital themselves. When I said I'd call Sara and let her know what had happened they said they'd already phoned her and she was meeting them there. He is alright, isn't he?"

"He's in surgery at the moment, Mrs. Muir. Can you tell me what time it was when you saw them?"

"I usually get home around 11pm. So those men weren't helping him after all?"

"No, Ma'am, I'm afraid they weren't. Do you think you'd be able to give us a description of the men and their van?"

"I'm not very good with vehicles but I'd definitely know the men if I saw them again."

"That's great. If you could wait here I'll send Captain Brass over; he'll ask you some more questions and take a statement from you."

Warrick turned from Mrs. Muir and saw that Brass was now back outside and talking to Nick.

"Nosy neighbor?" Nick queried as he returned.

"Yeah, but the good kind." He turned to address Brass. "Jim, Mrs. Muir spoke to two men last night as they 'helped' Grissom to their van after he 'slipped and hit his head'. She says she'd recognize them again. I told her you'd be over to take a statement and get descriptions from her. It might pay to set her up with one of the police artists and see if we can get pictures of these two."

"Okay, I'm on it right now. I was just telling Nick; the place is a mess but it's clear. You can go in now."

Thanks Jim."

Brass walked over to Mrs. Muir as Nick and Warrick entered Grissom's home. The signs of a struggle were obvious; furniture had been overturned, books were strewn across the floor and framed pictures and butterfly displays were hanging crookedly on the walls or had been knocked off all together. Nick cautiously moved through the debris, trying not to disturb anything as Warrick began taking photos. Blood smears were evident on many of the walls and surfaces.

"Looks like Sara was right, he fought back." Warrick commented as he moved about the room.

Nick moved towards the kitchen area and stopped as he noticed a box on the bench top.

"Hey Warrick, what was it that Catherine said Grissom was talking about when he woke up?"

"Um… pizza and money I think. Why?"

"Look what I found."

Warrick looked over as Nick pointed to a pizza box and some loose change that were sitting on the table along with Grissom's wallet, cell phone and keys. He carefully used a pen to open the pizza box.

"Hasn't been touched. Maybe Griss wasn't quite as out of it as Catherine thought. I'll bag the box and everything else here and have Mandy check them for prints."

Sara and Catherine had been joined by Brass and Greg in the waiting room attached to the surgical suite. Brass had arrived after dropping Mrs. Muir at PD to work with the police artist and Greg had given up on trying to sleep after two hours of tossing and turning and had decided to drive back to the hospital. It was now past noon and Grissom had been in surgery for almost four hours.

Sara had been getting edgier with every passing hour and the constant stream of coffee she had been drinking wasn't helping matters. She had spent the past 45 minutes pacing from one side of the room to the other. Both Catherine and Jim had suggested a quick trip outside for some fresh air but she had refused to leave and Greg's attempts at distraction had failed.

She suddenly sat in the chair next to Brass. "Dr. Morgan said two to two and a half hours, it's been four. Something's wrong!" She stated.

"Sara, I'm sure everything's fine, it's just taking a bit longer than they thought." Jim took her hand in his in an attempt to calm her.

Catherine turned her head just as the doctor came into view. "Here's Dr. Morgan now, Sara."

The younger woman instantly shot to her feet.

"Hey folks, sorry about the delay. It took longer to stabilize the lower fracture than we anticipated." He took a seat next to Catherine and urged Sara to sit again. "Grissom's fine. He's in the recovery room and starting to show signs of coming round."

"How's his leg?" Sara asked anxiously.

"The femur fracture went back together beautifully. I'm not expecting any problems with it. It was a clean break and the rod and pins are holding it together perfectly."

"So, how long does the rod stay in his leg?" Greg queried.

"It's there for good now. It could be taken out in the future if it needed to be but they very rarely cause any trouble and after a while most people almost forget it's there."

"Unfortunately, the other fracture is a different story. We've put pins into his foot and shin for the external fixator. The blood supply to his foot has been restored but we won't know if there's any nerve damage for a while yet. The CT scan of his lower leg showed that the ankle joint has shattered into at least six pieces. That's not too uncommon with this type of fracture but I had been hoping for better news."

He took a quick drink from the bottle of water he had brought with him before he continued.

"Dr. Kovak, the plastic surgeon has stitch the gash on his forehead and the broken nose was a simple closed reduction; basically she just snapped it back in place and taped him up. She'll drop in tomorrow to see how he's doing and explain how she's going to treat the eye socket fracture and Dr. Sullivan from the burns unit is coming down later this afternoon to begin treatment of the chest burn."

He looked at the group of people sitting with him, his eyes coming to rest on Sara. Worry and exhaustion were written clearly on her face.

"Sara, I'll be in to see him this evening before I leave, hopefully he'll be awake enough that I can discuss his injuries with him. In the meantime, stop worrying, okay? He's got a long road ahead of him with that leg but we're off to a good start."

"Greg, why don't you take Sara downstairs and see if you can find something to eat. The break will do you both good." Catherine suggested.

"What do you say, Sara? Fancy having lunch with me?"

"I don't know. I really don't want to go anywhere until I've seen him."

Dr. Morgan decided to add his encouragement. "There's at least half an hour before he'll leave the recovery room, Sara, and it'll probably take another twenty to thirty minutes to settle him in a room and get that leg elevated. If I were you I'd grab the chance while I had it."

She finally gave in. "Okay, but half an hour then we're back, alright Greg?"

They watched as Greg and Sara headed down the corridor towards the elevator.

"There was something I wanted to check with you. I believe you were both at the mineshaft where he was found. The report that I read said it was 30 feet deep, is that correct?"

"Well, we haven't measured it yet but it would have been approximately 30 feet, yes." Catherine answered.

"A tibial plafond fracture occurs with falls from more than 10 feet but as bad as Grissom's fracture is; I'd expect it to be considerably worse if he'd hit from 30 feet. I don't think he fell the whole distance. I'd estimate his fall was more in the 15-20 feet range."

"That doesn't make sense; the shaft is definitely deeper than that." Brass stated.

"When we moved him in the OR we noticed that among the bruises on his back is one that runs horizontally across from armpit to armpit but there's no corresponding bruise on his chest. I'm no expert but it looks to me as if he was being lowered into the shaft by rope and something's happened to make him fall."

"Could be the rope broke or the knot didn't hold." Catherine suggested. "We'll have to document and photograph his injuries so I'll make sure we get some good shots of that bruise. Thanks, Doc."

"Glad I can help."

Five minutes after Dr. Morgan left Warrick and Nick arrived in the waiting room.

"How's Griss doing?" Nick asked as he took a seat next to Catherine.

"He's good. We're just waiting on them moving him to a room. Shouldn't be long now. Jim told us the townhouse had been trashed. Did you find anything?" She asked.

"No sign of forced entry; Grissom must have opened the door for them. Lots of prints; most of them probably belong to Griss and Sara but we're having them checked anyway. Swabbed lots of blood smears, hopefully it's not all Grissom's. There was a pizza and some change on the countertop. Looks like the boss was maybe trying to give us a lead earlier. I've left them with Mandy so we'll see if she can turn anything up."

"Where's Sara?" Warrick asked as he looked around the rest of the room.

"We managed to talk her into going to get something to eat with Greg. I was going to have to tie her to a chair if she'd started pacing again." Catherine answered. "I don't think she should be going back to the townhouse alone until we know what this is all about."

"Yeah, I've thought of that; I'll take her home with me." Brass said. "She'll protest but I'm not taking no for an answer."

"This whole thing is getting weird." Catherine stated. "Why would anyone beat someone, brand them and then _lower_ them into a mineshaft? And who was it that made the 911 call?"

"What about this butterfly brand? Any idea what that could be about?" Nick asked.

Catherine thought for a moment. "You know, over the years we've dealt with hundreds of cases that involved insect activity but there's not many I can think of the had anything to do with butterflies."

"Oh hell!" Jim exclaimed as he rose fumbling to remove his cell phone from his pocket. "I'll be back in a minute; I have to make a call."

Ten minutes later he returned.

"I've found something." He sat in the empty chair opposite Catherine. "Do you remember a case about three years ago; a young nurse was killed in her bathroom and the one of the doctors she had been seeing was cut up and put in the trash?"

"Ah… yeah, we had to let the suspect go; couldn't get enough evidence to prove that he did it. It was another doctor, wasn't it? Lurie?" Warrick responded.

"That's right! The nurse had butterflies all over her house and her 'suitors' used to give her jewelry with butterfly themes. She was the spitting image of Sara. Grissom worked nonstop on that one." Catherine added.

"Right, and Lurie and Gil ended up playing a little mental one-on-one in the interview room but we never managed to break him. It was the only case I could remember that had anything to do with butterflies so, on a hunch, I called Vartan and had him run a search for Lurie. Seems he left Nevada, he's been practicing in Montana for the past two years. Then we did a search for similar crimes. Four weeks ago, the cops in Butte, Montana discovered a body down a mineshaft. When they got the DB up to the surface they discovered he had a butterfly branded on his chest."

"So, you think Lurie came back to Nevada to take revenge on Grissom?"

"That's what I was thinking but it turns out it couldn't have been him after all."

"Why?"

"The body Montana police pulled out of that mineshaft _was_ Vincent Lurie."

TBC


	7. Chapter 9

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 7**

Forty minutes after Sara and Greg returned to the waiting room a nurse entered and looked around the assembled group.

"Sara Sidle?"

"Yes, that's me." Sara stood and walked towards the other woman.

"Dr. Grissom's been moved to the ward, if you follow me I'll take you to him."

Sara walked beside the nurse as the rest of the team followed behind. "Is he awake?" she asked as they turned a corner.

"He was sleeping when left but he was awake when we moved him. Between the concussion and pain relief he'll probably sleep for most of the afternoon. I'm Jenny, by the way. I'll be looking after Dr. Grissom." They came to a halt outside of room 508. "Here we are."

"Sara, you want some time alone with him first?" Catherine asked. Receiving an affirmative nod from the younger woman she turned to the others. "Okay, boys, I'd kill for something to eat, let's go hit the cafeteria."

"I'll wait up here." Jim said settling himself in a chair opposite the door to Grissom's room. He and Sara watched as Catherine and the guys boarded the elevator. "If you need me, Sara, you know where I am."

"Thank, Jim" she replied as she turned towards the door.

Grissom was asleep when she entered the room behind the nurse. He was occupying the room's only bed; a protective cradle keeping the bedding off his left leg.

"Normally, we'd elevate his leg using straps and an overhead support," Jenny explained as she rounded the end of the bed, "but we didn't want to put any pressure on the femur fracture so we've just raised the end of the bed and supported his leg with pillows."

Sara moved to the side of the bed and bent to place a kiss carefully on his right temple, one of the few places not marred by bruising and abrasions. A fresh white dressing covered the line of stitches on his forehead and his broken nose had a wide strip of tape across it.

"You scared me, you know. Don't ever do that again, okay?" She gently moved her hand over his hair, avoiding the newly shaved area and its staples. "They cleaned you up pretty well but you've still got blood in your hair." Her voice caught on a sob and within seconds she was in tears.

At the sound, Jenny turned from the IV she had been checking. Moving quickly round the bed she grabbed a nearby chair and placed it behind Sara. "Here, sit down." She guided Sara into the chair. "I'll get your friend."

Jenny left the room and moments later Brass entered.

"Sara?" He squatted beside her chair and placed an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry. I don't even know why I'm crying."

He pulled her up until she was standing then enfolded her in a hug.

"Worry, relief, tiredness; it's just catching up with you. Let it out; you'll feel better."

She cried for the next five minutes until it eventually began to taper off.

"Better?" Jim asked. Feeling her nod against his shoulder he released her and moved around to the far side of the bed. He grabbed a handful of tissues from a box on the bedside cabinet and returned to her. Handing her the tissues he moved the chair nearer the bed.

"Come on, dry your eyes then we'll visit with this boyfriend of yours, okay?"

As Sara retook her seat Jim moved to the end of the hospital bed. "Let's see what they've done here." He bent and lifted the sheet covering Grissom's leg. "Come here Sara, you've got to see this."

"I'll see it later, Jim" She replied content now to remain where she was until he awoke.

"Glad that thing's not attached to my leg." Jim exclaimed. "I don't know what I'd do if I looked down to find that sticking out of me."

"Hey." The weak voice took them both by surprise. Sara stood quickly and Brass moved up the other side of the bed.

"Hey, you finally decided to wake up." Jim said.

"Bit hard to sleep with you in the room." Without opening his eyes, Grissom raised his right hand off the bed for Sara to take. She grasped it then turned it over to lay a kiss on his palm.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Tired… some pain."

"Jim, could you get the nurse back in here, please?" Sara looked up at Brass and he quickly left the room.

"You've had everyone worried." She looked down at his face. "Can you open your eyes, Griss?"

"Headache. It's too bright."

"How about if I turn off these lights?" Sara reached across and flicked a switch, darkening the room. Slowly, one bloodshot eye opened. "That's better." She said as she smiled down at him.

The door opened and Jim returned with Jenny in tow.

"Dr. Grissom? Where are you feeling pain?"

"My leg."

"He also has a headache." Sara added.

"That's pretty much to be expected." She looked back down at Grissom. "We've set you up with a morphine pump; so when you need it just press this button. Do you want some now?" Grissom shook his head slightly so she placed the control within his reach.

"Do you remember what happened, Gil?" Brass asked.

"Some of it. Can I have some water?" Sara looked at Jenny to make sure it was alright then held the cup and straw as Grissom took a small sip.

"The others are outside." Jim said. "I told them you're awake. Catherine was at the pay phone but they said they'd be in when she's finished."

They watched as Grissom finished drinking and closed his eyes again. The nurse took the cup from Sara and left the room. Expecting Gil to sleep they were surprised when he spoke.

"Who was it?"

"That did this?" Jim responded. "We don't know but we're pretty sure the same people also got to Vincent Lurie. Remember him, Gil?"

"Um… yeah, the Marlin case."

"That's right. Montana Police are emailing us some photos to compare with your injuries, but from the sound of it, it's the same people."

"How's Lurie?"

Brass looked at Sara, unsure whether or not to tell Grissom the truth just now. Seeing Sara nod, he answered. "He's dead, Gil. They killed him."

Before Grissom could respond the door was pushed open and Catherine entered followed by Warrick, Nick and Greg. Grissom instantly tried to free his hand from Sara's but she held on tightly. She leaned down to whisper to him. "It's okay, they know."

He made no response but she felt the tension in his hand lessen slightly. They'd both known the day would come that the team would have to know about their relationship but neither expected it would come out like this.

Catherine moved to the side of the bed as the guys stood at the end. "I thought you said he was awake?" she whispered to Brass.

Before he could answer Grissom himself responded. "I am awake, Catherine." He turned his head slightly and opened his eyes to look at her.

"Sorry." She smiled sheepishly at him. "It's good to see you conscious again." She reached across and carefully took hold of his left hand. "You're looking pretty rough though, Gil."

Catherine decided to try and lighten the atmosphere of the room. Looking across the bed at Sara she smiled at the younger woman. "So… the two of you have some explaining to do!" She almost laughed as she saw them both cringe then decided to go easy on them for now. Shifting her focus to Grissom; she added "However, I'll let you off until you're up and about again."

"I just spoke with Ecklie. He said to tell you that he'd drop by on his way home tonight."

"Well, that's something to look forward to." Grissom said sarcastically. He looked over at Sara. "Please tell me he doesn't know about us too."

As Sara shrugged, Catherine spoke up. "Relax Gil, to my knowledge no one at the lab has a clue and nobody here is going to tell them." She looked over to see Warrick, Nick and Greg nodding their agreement.

'Besides," she continued "Conrad's too busy at the moment to listen to gossip. Someone leaked the news about you to the media so he's in his element fending off reporters. He has arranged for Swing to help us out with the shift tonight though."

Noticing the three men standing at the foot of the bed, Brass moved towards them pleased to, at last, be able to share his new discovery.

"Hey guys, look at this." Brass said as he once again lifted the sheet that covered the end of the bed.

Two rods ran parallel to Grissom's lower leg and foot. They sat about an inch away from the skin and were joined by a small ball-and-socket joint that was locked in position. Three bolts had been inserted in the longer of the rods and the ends of these disappeared into small incisions cut into the skin. The smaller rod was similarly attached to his foot; thick wires used in place of bolts.

"That is so cool!" Greg exclaimed as he moved in for a closer look.

"Have you seen this yet, Griss?" Warrick asked.

"They told me about it but no, I haven't seen it." He answered tiredly.

It must feel weird though." Nick looked towards Grissom for confirmation.

"At the moment all I feel is pain from the hip down; I can't pinpoint anything specific."

"Maybe we should wrap this up for now and let Grissom get some rest." Brass suggested.

"I think that's a good idea." Catherine agreed. "Gil, we're going to have to photograph your injuries; you want someone to come back and do that this evening or do you want to wait until tomorrow?"

"Do it now." He stated.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes, Catherine, the photos have to be taken so do it now."

"Okay." Catherine turned towards the three CSIs still standing by the foot of the bed. "Warrick, you want to go get your camera?"

"Sure thing." He returned five minutes later with his kit.

"I don't think we all need to be here for this. Warrick we'll wait for you outside." Catherine said as she ushered Nick and Greg from the room following after them.

"How do you want to do this, Griss?" Warrick asked as he removed his camera.

"Same way you always do it, Warrick!" Grissom snapped; pain and tiredness beginning to affect his patience.

"You want to press the button for some painkiller first, Gil?" Brass asked, aware of how painful it was going to become when they had to move him.

"No, just get started."

"Okay. I'll begin with the legs and work up." He said as he began focusing the camera. After numerous shots had been taken of the bruises and abrasions on Grissom's legs they replaced the sheet over the cradle and lowered it from the top exposing Grissom's chest and abdomen. Warrick continues photographing the injuries until he came to the burn dressing.

"Maybe we should get the nurse in to do this bit." He suggested.

"Loosen the dressing and take your photographs, Warrick. I want this over with."

Very carefully Warrick lifted the edge of the dressing and began to lift it away. Cringing when parts of it stuck to the wound it covered. Sara noticed the increased pressure on her hand as Grissom's grip tightened in response to the pulling.

Brass had seen the picture on Nick's camera but was still shocked when the dressing was finally removed. The burn was about five inches square and situated almost exactly in the middle of Grissom's chest. The area surrounding it was surprisingly pale but the butterfly shape itself was a mess of blackened charred skin.

Warrick didn't say a word as he began taking shots of the wound and Sara looked away, tears running silently down her face.

"Were you conscious when they did this, Gil?" Brass asked.

"They made sure I was." He replied through gritted teeth.

"Take the morphine, Griss. Please?" Sara pleaded.

"Not yet." His breathing was becoming more labored as he fought to control the pain. "You need photos of my back; it'll be easier for everyone if I'm awake when you move me."

Warrick quickly took photos of Grissom's facial injuries then he and Brass carefully pulled him into a sitting position. As Sara supported him from the front, Warrick took a series of shots documenting the bruises that covered his back.

"Okay, all done." Warrick turned and replaced the camera in his kit. "We'll move you back now, Griss."

"Just give me a minute." He ground out as he leaned heavily against Sara.

Jim moved around the bed to take some of the weight from her and at the same time reached over and depressed the button on the morphine pump. It took just minutes for the drug to work. Grissom's breathing evened out and as they felt his body begin to relax they eased him back down onto the bed.

As Sara pulled the sheet back up to cover the now sleeping Grissom, Warrick finished packing the camera away and picked up his kit ready to leave. "You or Griss need anything, Sara, just call, okay?"

"Thanks Warrick." She left the bedside and gave him a brief hug.

"Sara, I have to into the office for a couple of hours. I'm going to arrange to have an officer outside the door here at all times, if nothing else it'll keep the media away. When I come back we'll head over to your place and grab some of your things then you're coming home with me."

"I'd really rather be at home, Jim."

"The place is a mess, Sara." Said Warrick. "Stay with Brass for a few days at least and then we'll all give you a hand cleaning everything up."

She was too tired to argue further and as Brass and Warrick left the room she was settling herself back into the chair beside the bed.

The two men joined the rest of the team in the corridor.

"Get all the photos?" Nick asked.

"Yeah. They really worked him over. We've got to get these people."

"Well, we can't do that without sleep." Catherine stated as they began walking down the corridor. "I want everyone to go home and get some sleep. We'll meet up in Grissom's office at the start of shift and go over everything we have so far."

"I should have the all the reports from Montana by then." Brass added as they reached the elevator and Nick hit the down button. "And hopefully Gil will be up to giving us a statement tomorrow."

TBC


	8. Chapter 10

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 8**

Arriving at the lab half an hour before shift was due to start, Nick and Warrick could see that Catherine was already hard at work. The walls of the layout room were now covered with photographs. One wall was dedicated to pictures taken at the mineshaft; another showed shots of Grissom's townhouse and on a third were those taken at the hospital. The glass light table in the center of the room held an assortment of evidence; from the clothes Grissom had been wearing to the tire track castings that Nick had made at the scene.

Stopping in the open doorway, they waited patiently for Catherine to notice their presence. Eventually she caught sight of them and stopped what she was doing.

"Oh, hey guys, aren't you a little early?" She glanced at her watch, surprised when she noticed it was so close to the start of shift.

"We were just going to grab a coffee before starting, you want one, Cath?" Nick asked.

"Give me five minutes to finish up here and I'll meet you in Grissom's office."

Greg arrived shortly afterwards to find his three colleagues seated around the desk drinking coffee. Stopping first in the break room he poured himself a cup and joined them.

"Get enough sleep, Greg?" Nick asked as the younger CSI sat in the chair next to his.

"Yeah, a couple of hours. I'm ready to go again."

"That's good; because I'm afraid it's going to be a long night." Catherine looked around the desk at the three men. "I managed to pass off all of tonight's cases to Swing except for one. The teenage son of one of the city councilmen has been missing for four days and now the mayor putting pressure on to find him. The Sheriff wants us on it and I couldn't get out of it."

"The kid's probably found himself a girlfriend or something." Warrick said.

"Let's hope it's a simple as that. I want you and Greg to look into it and see what you can turn up." She handed him a slip of paper. "That's the home address. His parents are expecting you."

Finishing his coffee, Warrick stood. "Come on, Greg. Grab your gear and I'll meet you at the car."

Warrick and Greg left the office passing Sara and Jim Brass in the corridor outside.

"I thought I told you not to come in tonight, Sara?" Catherine greeted the new arrivals.

"I didn't have anything else to do. They kicked me out of Grissom's room when they came to start treatment on his burn then Jim made me go home with him to eat and get some sleep. I've done that and now I want to get started on this." The younger woman stated as she sat down in the chair recently vacated by Warrick.

"Whoa!" Catherine exclaimed. "You're not having anything to do with this one, Sara." She got up to close the door before continuing. "I had enough trouble getting Ecklie to allow us to handle Grissom's case. Can you imagine what would happen if he finds out about your relationship and then realizes you were also an active part of the investigating team? Not to mention what a defense lawyer would do with that information. No way, Sara, you're too close to it!"

"There has to be something I can do. I need to be a part of this." Sara pleaded.

"Hey Cath." Brass spoke up. "I've got the Lurie case file from Montana here. How about if Sara was to go over that? Surely that wouldn't be a problem?"

Catherine thought for a moment before addressing Sara again. "Okay, you can work that end of it, but when it comes to anything to do with Gil's case you are strictly hands off!"

Sara glanced over at Brass and silently mouthed a 'thanks' to him as he handed her one of the files he was holding.

"Where do you want us to start, Cath?" Nick asked as he drained the last of his coffee.

"I've got everything set up in the layout room, so we'll begin there." She rose from the desk and led the others down the hallway and into the room she'd spent the last few hours preparing.

Catherine sat at the table, Brass and Nick taking seats either side of her while Sara slowly walked around the room examining the photographs on the walls.

"Okay, who wants to start?" Catherine asked as Sara moved to the table to join them.

"I'll kick it off." Brass offered as he opened a file and removed two sheets of paper. "These are the drawings of the men the neighbor spoke to outside the townhouse. According to the artist that worked with her, Mrs. Muir was very definite in her descriptions so we're pretty sure the sketches are accurate."

He paused to allow them to look at the likenesses before continuing. "She wasn't as good with the vehicle they were driving unfortunately. All she could say for certain was that it was a white van and probably less than five years old. She had no idea what make or model it was."

Brass closed that file and opened another. "This is a transcript of the 911 call.' He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a disc. "And this is an audio copy of the actual call."

"Sara has the Montana file but I did keep a copy of something."

He stood and walked to the wall of photographs that had been taken in the hospital, selected the one he wanted and returned to his chair. He placed the photo on the table for them all to see. It was a close up shot of the butterfly brand burnt into Grissom's chest. Reaching back into his pocket he removed a second photo and placed it alongside the first.

"This is a photo the Montana coroner took of the burn on Vincent Lurie's chest. I think looking at these we can now say it's definitely the same perpetrators."

Nodding her agreement Catherine turned to Nick. "Alright, Nick, your turn."

The younger man pointed across the table at the plaster castings. "Two sets of tire tracks; one appears to be from a van and the second could be a SUV. I'll run both through the database and hopefully we can narrow that down a bit."

"We've got footprints from four different sources moving about out there. Three are pretty distinct; should be able to identify the type of shoe from the casts. The fourth isn't as clear; that one may be from Griss. If he was unconscious or dragging his feet that could explain the print not being as well-defined.

"He may not have been wearing shoes." Sara offered. "I'm sure he wasn't when I left to meet Greg for dinner; he just had socks on."

"That's consistent with what he was wearing when we found him." Catherine said as she checked her notes. "Jeans and white sport socks. We found his shirt on the ground not far from the shaft. No shoes anywhere though."

Sara was looking at the clothing on the table when she noticed something was missing. "Where's his watch?"

"We never came across a watch at the mineshaft." Catherine answered. "How about at the townhouse, Nick?"

"Nope. All of the action took place in the living area and kitchen but we checked through the rest of the rooms and I never saw a watch."

"He always wears it." Sara stated. "Takes it off to shower and puts it right back on again. He would have been wearing it."

Nick rose to check the pictures from the mineshaft. "There's no watch on his wrist in any of these photos."

"It looks like somebody may have taken a souvenir. We're going to need a full description of Gil's watch, Sara." Catherine said.

There was a quick knock on the door to the layout room and they all looked up to see Mandy enter.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I thought I'd let you know I found prints on the pizza box that Nick brought back from Grissom's home. When I sprayed it with Ninhydrin four different prints showed up; none of which belong to Grissom. I'm running them through AFIS now but one of them is a match to a print Warrick lifted from the inside of the front door."

"So, could be that belongs to one of the guys we're looking for." Catherine stated. "Thanks, Mandy." She turned back to the table and looked at the items that covered it. "I think we're off to a pretty good start. Nick, you handle the tire and shoe prints. Sara, start going through the Lurie file; see if there's anything they missed or if there's any other information we can use. I'll take the 911 tape to Archie and then follow up with DNA and Trace and see if they can tell us anything yet."

"I'll take these sketches over to the pizza shop; see if whoever did the delivery remembers seeing either of these guys" Jim stood and replaced the two drawings in their folder. He turned to face Catherine. "How about if I meet you here towards the end of shift and we head over to the hospital? I was going there with Sara anyway and if you come along we can see about getting Gil's statement at the same time."

"Good idea, Jim." She picked up the folder containing the call transcript and the disc. "Okay people, let's get started.

* * *

Waking the next morning Grissom was not surprised to hear voices in the room. The only sleep he'd managed to get since yesterday was courtesy of the morphine and each time he had woken someone different seemed to be with him.

Thankfully he'd never returned to consciousness to find Conrad Ecklie present. If the man had made his promised visit, Gil had slept through it.

The worst moment had come when he had awoken late in the afternoon to find the team from the burns unit debriding the wound on his chest. Having decided to do it at his bedside they had tried to rouse him but unable to do so, had elected to go ahead with the procedure and hoped he would remain sleeping throughout. He wasn't disturbed when they cleaned the area but had woken as they were injecting the local anesthetic.

Although the burn site itself was essentially dead and the nerve damage so extensive that he had no feeling in the area; the knowledge of what the treatment entailed was enough to make it an ordeal. He may not have been able to feel it but he still knew when they were cutting the charred skin away with scalpels and when they were peeling it away with forceps. He had no idea how long they had taken to finish; having opted for another dose of morphine and the oblivion that came with it.

The doctor had returned later that night to explain the procedure. All the dead tissue had been cut away, leaving a clean edge to the open wound. This had been covered with a moist dressing that would remain undisturbed for a week. If no further debridement was required the area would be allowed to heal before any decisions were made regarding skin grafts.

Strangely, the one thing the drugs didn't seem to be able to touch was the headache he felt every time he woke. Worse than a normal headache but, thankfully, not as intense as a migraine; it felt as though a belt had been placed around his head and every so often it was cinched a little tighter.

Unable to ignore the presence of others any longer he opened his eyes and instantly slammed them shut again; the brightness of the room aggravating the pain in his head.

Dr. Morgan caught the quick movement and turned to the nurse standing beside him. "Could you close the blind a bit, Jenny?" She moved to the window and turning the rod that controlled the slats, darkened the room. Turning back she addressed the doctor "I'll go and arrange some breakfast for him."

"Grissom?" Dr. Morgan moved up the side of the bed to better observe his patient. He waited until Gil once again opened his eyes before continuing. "It's good to finally meet you. I dropped in last night but you were dead to the world. I'm Gary Morgan. I operated on your leg yesterday."

Lifting the sheet from the left side of the bed, he bent to take a closer look at the device attached to Grissom's leg and the incision sites.

"How does it feel this morning?"

"Painful. My thigh feel like it's on fire. I broke my other leg years ago but I don't remember it hurting like this."

"Another couple of days and it should settle down. How about lower down, around your ankle?"

Grissom thought for a moment before answering. "I'm not sure; can't really say I feel anything down there."

"How about we sit you up a bit and you can see what we've done."

The bed was adjusted so he was now reclined at a 45 degree angle. Looking down along his leg he saw that his thigh was covered by heavy bandaging with a drainage tube snaking out and running down the side of the bed. Further down his attention was caught by the external fixator.

"Well… that's impressive."

"It is isn't it? I can't operate on it until the swelling's gone down so that will keep everything securely in place for now. We should be able to do the surgery in two or three weeks so in the meantime you'll be shown how to clean around the screws to minimize the chance of infection."

He placed his hand on the top of Grissom's foot and pressed lightly with his fingers. "Nice and warm, that's good. Can you feel me touching you?"

"I can feel the pressure but it feels pretty numb."

"Okay, you won't be able to move your foot but can you wiggle your toes for me?"

It took a few seconds but eventually Grissom managed to move his toes.

"That's good. It's a pretty nasty fracture so I'd be surprised if there wasn't some nerve involvement. That's probably why you're not feeling it as much as you should." He lifted the chart from the end of the bed and made some notes. "Some of the feeling should come back over the next few days as it starts to settle down a bit. You'll probably wish it was still numb when that happens."

"So, if I'm not having further surgery for a few weeks when can I get out of here?"

"I'd guess you'll be here for another four or five days. That's a pretty severe concussion you have and I also want to be sure there's no further bleeding from your kidneys. We can probably remove the catheter this morning as well as the drainage tube in your thigh."

Looking up to see Grissom's disappointed expression he continued. "We'll see about getting you up on a pair of crutches this afternoon. You can't put _any_ weight on that leg so I want to be sure you're completely competent with crutches before I discharge you."

He finished writing notes in the chart and returned it to the end of the bed.

"Dr. Kovak will be in to talk to you about that eye-socket sometime this morning and I'll be back after lunch." He moved towards the door. "I passed Sara and a couple of your friends waiting outside when I came in so I'll let them know they can come in now, okay?"

Grissom nodded his consent and then leaned his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes.

He heard them enter but waited until he felt Sara's hand slip over his before he opened his eyes again.

"Hey." She said, leaning carefully across to kiss him. "We thought you'd gone back to sleep."

"Just resting." He replied tiredly as he turned his head to see Jim and Catherine.

"Wow!" Catherine exclaimed. "You can see out of both eyes… sort of."

"Yeah." Grissom reached up and gingerly felt around his left eye. "The swelling's gone down a little. Hurts though."

"How's the head, Gil?" Jim asked.

"Still attached unfortunately. I could really do without this headache."

The door opened and the nurse entered carrying a plate of toast and a glass of orange juice. Pulling the tray table over until it was in front of him she placed the food down.

"Sorry, Dr. Grissom, breakfast was served a while ago; that's the best I could do."

"That's fine, Jenny. Thanks." He replied as she headed back out of the room. He waited until the door had closed behind her before addressing Catherine. "Could you move that away from me, please?"

"Not hungry?" Sara asked as she pulled a chair close up beside his bed.

"Nauseous." He answered as he leaned back against the pillows.

Brass took a seat on his side of the bed and looked at his old friend. "Are you up to telling us what you can remember, Gil?"

"I guess so. Where do you want me to start?"

Jim opened his notebook. "Well, we know that you ordered a pizza at about 10:30 that night but it wasn't you that opened the door to the delivery guy 25 minutes later. So, how about we start there."

TBC


	9. Chapter 11

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 9**

Grissom lay back against the pillow and closed his eyes, mainly in an attempt to alleviate the pain in his head but also to allow the memories to take shape. Brass and Catherine sat silently watching him, waiting for him to begin speaking while Sara ran her thumb up and down across the back of his hand trying to both comfort and encourage.

"I remember calling for the pizza." He began. "The girl who took the order said it would be half an hour or so before it was delivered so I was trying to find something to watch on TV. Then the doorbell rang.

"How long after the phone call was this, Gil? Brass asked as he scribbled in his notebook.

"I don't know, five or ten minutes I guess. I should have looked before opening the door. I wasn't paying any attention to the time and just assumed it was the pizza."

He stopped, annoyed at himself for making such a basic error. All these years working in law enforcement and he still blindly opens his front door in the middle of the night.

Sara watched him, guessing what was going through his mind. "You were tired, Griss. You'd worked a full shift and then spent all day in court. You'd barely slept three hours out of the previous 30."

"It doesn't make it any less of a stupid mistake though, does it?" He asked rhetorically.

Sensing he would dwell on his error if allowed to, Catherine decided to move things along. "What happened when you opened the door?"

"All I saw was a fist."

_Grissom tried to move as the fist swung towards his face but wasn't fast enough. As it connected he heard more than felt his nose break. Reeling backwards, he fell heavily against the small table that sat opposite the door, the bowl that usually graced it shattering as it hit the floor._

_Stunned, he raised both hands to his face attempting to stem the blood that ran from his nose. Looking up he saw two figures, both wearing ski masks and leather gloves. As he watched, the man who had punched him locked the door from the inside while the other disappeared deeper into his home. As the first man finished securing the door he turned and moved to Grissom._

"_Get up!" Bending, he grabbed Grissom's elbow and hauled him to his feet then shoved him towards the kitchen. As they reached the counter the second man reappeared from the back of the townhouse._

"_There's no one else here."_

_Grissom felt a hand close across the back of his neck and press down, forcing him to bend at the waist so that his upper body lay across the bench top. He felt the hand around his neck move up until the man could grab hold of his hair, keeping him in place. _

"_When's the woman due back?" _

"_What woman?" Grissom saw stars as his head was lifted by the hair and then slammed down onto the granite surface. _

"_Don't get smart! The woman that left here two hours ago."_

"_She's gone to work." Grissom managed to clear his head enough to answer. "She won't be back until morning." _

"_Lucky for her then; we'll be long gone before then." He turned to his partner. "Come here and hold him, I have to get the bag out of the van."_

"_Okay, Jay." The second man hurried over and took hold of Grissom's hair allowing his partner to let go and move away._

"Are you sure he said Jay?" Brass interrupted.

"Positive. The first guy was definitely the leader of the two but he didn't seem to notice his partner had just called him by name."

_As he heard the front door close behind the first intruder, Grissom felt the grip on his hair lessen slightly as the man adjusted his hold. Knowing he was going to have to take any chance that came his way, he thrust both elbows backwards into his assailant's stomach. He knew he'd hit his mark when he heard the 'whoosh' of air escaping from the man's mouth._

_As soon as he felt the hand disappear from his hair, Grissom reared up and spun around. With no time to aim he punched blindly and felt his knuckles connect solidly with the man's mouth. As his attacker fell back, Grissom pushed past and rushed towards the front door, only to come to a stop as it opened and he came face to face with the other man. Grissom initially couldn't place what was different until he realized the man had removed his ski mask before going outside._

Brass looked up from his notebook at this information. "So, you get a good look at him, Gil?"

"Yeah, white, early 30's, dark blonde hair starting to recede. About 6 feet tall and quite well built; I'd guess he works out a fair bit."

Jim bent to retrieve a file he'd placed on the floor beside his chair and flicked through it until he found what he was after.

"Either of these look like him?" He asked as he held up the two sketches.

"That's both of them. He's the one on the left. He's also the one with a temper.

_Grissom knew there was no chance of escaping out the back door, he'd never be able to scale the perimeter fence before they caught up with him. However, if he could make it to the bedroom he might have enough time to lock the door and get to the bedside phone._

_Spinning quickly, he had started towards the room when he felt something hit him hard in the middle of his back. He stumbled against the sofa then felt himself pushed towards the floor as he was tackled from behind. He struggled to breathe as he was pinned face down against the floor._

"_You couldn't hold him for two minutes, could you? Bring that bag over here and grab his hands for me." The returning thug said as his friend got to his feet, wiping his lips to check for blood._

_Both hands were pulled up behind Gil's back as he felt rope being tied tightly around them. Once his hands were secured the two men dragged at his arms until he managed to stand. He was then twisted around until he faced the unmasked man._

"_I had hoped this would be as easy as the first one but you had to fight back didn't you?"_

_Drawing back his arm the man slammed his fist hard into Grissom's stomach. As he doubled over from the force of the blow a knee was driven up into his face, connecting solidly with his left cheekbone. Unable to put his hands out to break his fall, Grissom landed heavily slamming his forehead against the tiled floor. He managed to roll onto his side and tried to curl up to protect his head and face from the kicks that were now being aimed at him._

_The second man watched for a minute before speaking. "Hey, I thought we weren't supposed to kill this one?"_

"_We weren't." His partner continued the assault as he answered. "But the bastard's seen me now, if we let him live he'll identify us both."_

"_We've still got to take him out to the desert, that's what we were paid for and he has to be alive for that."_

_After delivering one more well aimed kick, he finally relented. "Okay, help me get him up." Both men slipped their hands under Grissom's upper arms and pulled him upright. Just as they got him to his feet the doorbell sounded._

"_Shit!" Gil was yanked around to face the unmasked attacker again. "Who the hell is that?"_

_Grissom swayed on his feet and felt blood running into his left eye from the gash above it as he struggled to think._

"_I ordered pizza, must be that." He answered unsteadily._

"_Jesus!" The man turned to address his partner. "Get your mask and gloves off and deal with it, don't touch anything. I'll keep him quiet." _

"_If I take my mask off he'll see me too."_

"_It doesn't matter anymore, just do it."_

_Grabbing Grissom's elbow he shoved him towards the kitchen. Forcing him down onto the floor behind the counter, he placed his knee in the small of Gil's back as he covered his mouth with a hand._

"_Make a noise and I'll kill you now." He promised as the front door was opened._

_Grissom heard voices then the door closing and footsteps nearing the kitchen._

"_Are they gone?"_

"_Not yet, I don't have any money on me. I'll take it out of his wallet." He disappeared then returned again slamming the pizza and change on the counter._

"_Right, we're getting out of here now!" Removing his knee from Grissom's back the first attacker tugged him up, keeping hold of one arm as his partner grabbed the other._

"So, it was shortly after that Mrs. Muir came across them taking you out to their van?" Jim asked.

"Not quite. I knew that I couldn't risk another escape attempt; I'd been pretty much blinded by the blood in my eyes and I'd had enough hits to the head that I probably couldn't have walked a straight line let alone run one. So I decided to make things as hard as possible for them."

_As they neared the door Grissom allowed his whole body to relax. Suddenly his two assailants found themselves trying to hold up a dead weight._

_Unable to go any further they lowered him to the floor. "Great, now he's passed out."_

"_It'll probably be easier getting him into the van if he's unconscious anyway. Untie his hands and grab the bag."_

_When the second attacker returned with the bag he helped his partner get Grissom upright then watched as he placed Gil's arm around his neck and tested the weight. "Alright, we should be able to get him to the van this way. Get the door."_

_Grissom waited until he heard the door open and he'd been moved a few steps before he stood abruptly and rammed himself and his assailant sideways into the wall. They slid along it, sending frames flying as they were dislodged from their hooks. It didn't take long for Grissom to be overpowered again as both attackers quickly wrestled him back to the ground._

"_You really are trying to piss me off, aren't you?" The first man said as he stood and moved towards Gil's head. "How about we make sure you are unconscious this time?"_

Reaching up to carefully feel along the line of surgical staples in his head, Grissom looked at Brass as he spoke.

"I'm guessing that's when this happened. I don't know what he hit me with and I don't remember anything else until I came to near a campfire.

There was a knock on the door to the hospital room and Jenny and another nurse entered.

"Sorry to interrupt but we've got a couple of things to do in here. Could I ask you to give us a half hour or so and then you can come back in."

"Yeah, sure." Jim said as he closed his notebook and collected his files. He looked at Catherine and Sara. "Come on, I'll buy you both a coffee"

Catherine stood and moved towards the door followed by Brass. "I'll be out in a sec." Sara said and watched while the other two left before turning to Grissom.

"Are you sure you're up to continuing with this today?" She'd been watching him as he spoke and could clearly see the pain and tiredness he was trying to hide.

"I'm fine, honey, honestly." He looked over to where the two nurses were standing. "If I'm right these two ladies are here to remove a couple of tubes and, I hope, this IV." Receiving a nod from Jenny, he continued. "And, if I'm really lucky, that bag you put over on the chair contains something better than this hospital gown."

"You can thank Jim for that. He took me back to the townhouse yesterday so I could get some clothes and we were about to leave when he said you'd probably want your own things. I grabbed some t-shirts and boxers, your shaving gear and toothbrush and stuff. Is there anything else you need?"

"No, sounds fine. Go find the others and get yourself a coffee and then Jenny can get me unhooked. I'll be ready for you when you get back." He waited until Sara had left the room before collapsing back against the bed.

* * *

Just over thirty minutes later, Sara, Catherine and Jim reentered the room to find Grissom sitting up waiting for them.

"You're looking better." Catherine commented as she took her seat.

"I feel better." With the hospital gown replaced by boxers and an old UCLA t-shirt and with no more tubes running into or out of his body, Gil was definitely feeling more relaxed. This effect was further enhanced by the Vicodin tablets that had replaced the morphine pump. He was still dead tired but at least the pain in both his leg and head were down to a dull roar and the new meds didn't knock him out as the morphine had.

"It's amazing how much better you begin to feel as soon as they remove the catheter." Brass sat and flipped through his notebook until he reached the relevant page. "It's been over three months since I had one and I swear I can still feel it every time I…"

"Yeah, thanks Jim." Catherine interrupted. "I don't think anyone here needs to hear the end of that sentence."

Sara tried not to laugh as she retook her seat on the other side of Gil's bed, automatically taking hold off his hand as she did so. "Got rid of the morphine, I see."

"Swapped it for Vicodin and this afternoon I get to swap this bed for crutches."

"Wow, that's quick. When are they letting you out?" Catherine asked.

"Not for another four or five days apparently. I'm going to see if I can get Morgan to discharge me earlier though."

"Actually, four or five days would be better for me." Sara looked at him as she spoke. "I've lined up the guys to help me get the townhouse back in order but between work and Jim not letting me stay there alone just now it'll probably take that long to get finished."

They all saw the anger that flashed across Grissom's face and heard the chill in his voice as he pulled his hand back from Sara's. "I'm sorry to disappoint you Sara but if I can get out of here earlier that's what I'm going to do!"

Stunned, Sara looked across the bed and shared a confused look with Catherine while Jim decided to change the subject.

"Hey Gil, how about we finish up this statement?"

As if nothing had happened, Grissom grabbed Sara's hand again and turned towards Brass. "Sure, what were we up to?"

Jim checked his notes. "You were going to tell us about coming to near a campfire."

_Grissom was roused by someone slapping his face. Opening his eyes, he realized he was being held upright against a vehicle. "That's it, come on stand up properly. He wants you conscious for this." The slapping continued until he took his own weight._

_His arms had been raised above his head. Rope had been tied around each wrist then attached to the roof rack of the van. Giving an experimental tug he discovered he had no chance of getting free. He felt the chill of the night air and looking down found he'd been stripped of his shirt._

_Grissom watched as the man walked across to a small campfire and spoke to the two others that sat beside it. He saw one of the seated men rise and join the first while the third adjusted something in the fire. All three then began walking back towards the van._

_As they neared, Gil tried to see their faces but with the darkness of the desert night and the flames of the campfire backlighting them he could only make out their silhouettes. _

_He watched as one leaned closer as if to peer at him. "Nice to finally meet you, Dr. Grissom, I hear you caused my friends some trouble tonight." Turning away he spoke to the others. "Make sure he can't get free then hold him still." Going back over to the fire he lifted something then returned to the van._

"_You going to tell me what this is all about?" Grissom asked as the man joined them again._

"_It's quite simple, Dr. Grissom. If you'd done your job properly none of this would have been necessary. Instead you sat there and drew parallels between yourself and a murderer. I'm just making sure you have one more thing in common." With that he jammed the red hot branding iron into the middle of Grissom's chest._

_Gil screamed and tried desperately to twist away from the torture but the other two men held him in place. Suddenly the branding iron was lifted away and they let him go. His legs collapsed from under him, unable to hold him up any longer and his wrists took his full weight, the rope around them cutting deeply into his skin._

"Please tell me you passed out then." Sara tightened her hold on his hand.

"Yes, I did. I remember the smell of burning flesh and looking up to see the three of them walking back to the fire. The next thing I know I'm somewhere that's pitch black and the only thing I can feel is a rope around my back. I had no idea where I was but I could hear their voices coming from above. That's when I decided I had one last chance to get away from them."

"We wondered about that." Catherine interrupted him to say. "We thought the rope that was around you may have broken but you got out of it yourself, didn't you?"

"I'd guessed by then that it was probably a mineshaft. What I didn't know was how deep it was or how I was going to get out again but the important thing was to break their link to me. The end of the rope had been tied in a big loop and I tried a couple of times to undo the knot but couldn't get it. They knew by then I was awake and had stopped lowering me and started yelling down at me to be still. In the end it was simple; all I had to do was raise my arms. The loop was big enough and I just slipped through. I don't know how far I fell; I hit the ground with my left leg, felt it snap and passed out. I vaguely remember hearing Nick's voice then nothing until I woke up here."

"You never got a look at the third man?" Brass asked as he closed his notebook and retrieved his files from the floor.

"No, I'm positive I could identify him by voice though. I'm not going to forget that in a hurry."

"Well Gil, I've got to say; I think you've been very lucky." Jim stood as he prepared to leave.

"Compared to Lurie? Yeah, I guess I have."

Catherine stood and moved towards the door. "Sara, you coming?"

"Yeah, could you give me five minutes? I'll meet you at the car."

"Okay, but no longer than that, some of us hope to get some sleep before shift tonight." Catherine raised her hand in a quick wave to Grissom. "I'll drop in and see you tomorrow after work." She turned and left the room with Brass.

Walking towards the elevator, he turned to look at her. "Well, he certainly remembered more than I thought he would?"

"He's Grissom, Jim. I wouldn't be surprised if he was busy taking notes in his head as they beat him unconscious. He's trained to observe and that's what he did. We find the bad guys and he'll be the perfect witness in court."

"So why do you look worried?"

"I didn't like that mood swing back there, Jim. That was weird. You know, I've seen Gil lose it with suspects and get angry with people at the lab but I've never seen him act like that. Then a minute later he's back to normal and it's like it never happened. And that was Sara he was talking to at the time!"

"That could have been anything, Catherine. He's in pain; you can see he hasn't been sleeping properly. Plus they just changed his medication, maybe that caused it."

"I don't know. I think when Sara gets out I'll suggest that when she comes back tonight she tries to talk to his doctor. The Gil Grissom I know would never have spoken to someone he loves that way."

TBC


	10. Chapter 12

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 10**

Catherine arrived a little early for shift planning to make a dent in the pile of paperwork that had begun to accumulate on Grissom's desk. Passing the break room she was surprised to see Sara sitting at the table, a coffee cup in front of her and a paint chart in her hand. Entering the room Catherine grabbed a cup and, lifting the pot, filled it to the brim.

"Want a refill, Sara?" She gestured with the pot towards the younger woman's cup.

"Thanks, Cath." Lifting her cup, Sara held it out as it was replenished.

"Choosing colors, huh?" Catherine asked as she grabbed one of the charts.

"I went by today to take another look and I think it'll be easier to give the walls a quick wash down then repaint rather than try to scrub the stains out of them. We'd been talking about redecorating for a while now; I guess this gives us the perfect excuse."

"How was he when you went in this evening?"

"Sound asleep." She smiled. "I sat there for over an hour and he barely moved. I spent most of the time taking to the nurse. She said they'd worn him out making him practice up and down the corridor with his crutches. They'd gotten him back in bed, given him his painkillers and he was out like a light."

"Well, it's good that he's getting some sleep, he looked pretty tired this morning. Did you get a chance to talk to the doctor?"

"No, he was in surgery, another emergency. I did mention it to Jenny though. She thought the same as Jim, just a combination of pain and tiredness. She said the morphine _had_ been knocking him out but only for an hour or so when he first took it, he hadn't been getting any real sleep. Hopefully, that'll change now that they've got him on Vicodin and he's no longer stuck in bed."

"I'd still feel better if you'd mention it to Dr. Morgan, Sara."

"Cath, I know you're concerned, and I appreciate it, but I really do think you're overreacting. I'll speak to the doctor when I can but if Griss can catch up on some sleep I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Hey Catherine, I was just about to page you." Both women turned towards the door as Mandy entered. "I had no luck in AFIS with the prints from Grissom's home so I came in early to run them through some of the other databases. I just got a hit with the military." Taking the printout Mandy offered her, Catherine looked at the photograph. "Looks like your neighbor has a good eye, Sara. Hang on a second."

Rising from the table Catherine headed off down the corridor. Sara glanced from Catherine's retreating figure back to Mandy, an expression of dread on her face. Realizing quickly what the problem was, the print tech spoke up.

"They had to tell me Sara. Your prints were all over the place, I probably would have guessed anyway. Don't worry; I'm not going to tell anyone. It's nobody else's business but personally, I'm very happy for you."

"Thanks Mandy," Sara smiled at the other woman. "From both of us."

Catherine hurried back into the room carrying the printout and the sketches from the layout room. She put the former on the table and, selecting the appropriate drawing, placed it alongside.

"That's definitely one of our boys." She stated as she began to read from the printed sheet. "Kevin Beck, age 28, served two years in the U.S. Army. Multiple write-ups for fighting and, finally, a dishonorable discharge for theft and assaulting an officer. Well, I guess that fits." She turned to look at Mandy. "He left the Army six years ago; we don't have anything current on him?"

"The military database was the only one with a record of him. Sorry."

"Not your fault, Mandy. Thanks, at least now we have a name." Catherine and Sara watched as the tech left. "Strange that someone with the history of violence Kevin has isn't in AFIS. I doubt he'd change his ways just because he was thrown out of the army. I'll let Jim know and see what he can come up with."

Sara returned to her color charts as Catherine went to Grissom's office to call Brass and collect the night's assignment slips. Returning to the break room she was pleased to see the rest of the team were now present.

"Hey guys." She greeted as she took a seat at the table. "Nick, I want you to continue on with those tire and shoe prints. We need to identify the vehicles and shoe types ASAP; we've got a name on one of the men and we want as much on him as possible. Wendy found DNA from the fingernail scrapings and tried running it through the system with no luck. Our suspect wasn't in AFIS so it's likely he isn't in CODIS either and Brass wants as many ties between him and the crime as we can get before he goes for a warrant.

"Okay Cath, what about the fiber I lifted from Grissom's wrist?"

"Hodges identified it as polypropene. It's used in almost all nylon rope, nothing special about it unfortunately." She lifted a sheet of paper. "Warrick and Greg, hold up at a convenience store on East Charleston Boulevard. It sounds straightforward so it shouldn't take you long. How are you going with that missing kid?"

Taking the assignment slip from her, Warrick answered. "We spoke to his parent, spoke to his friends and teachers and searched his room. There's nothing to find. I still think he's gone off himself."

"Okay, well when you're finished at the store you two will be available for anything else that comes in. Sara and I are taking a drive."

"We are?"

"Body dump about 25 miles out past Nellis Air Force Base, should keep us busy all night."

Just before 5am Warrick got a call from Brass; a body had been found just off the Strip. He and Greg arrived at the scene fifteen minutes later. Walking under the crime scene tape they were met by the police captain.

"What you got, Jim?" Warrick asked as the trio walked towards the victim.

"Male, mid to late teens, I think you're going to recognize him."

"Not the councilman's kid?"

"I'm pretty sure it's him, looks like he's been dead a couple of days."

Reaching the body, Warrick stooped to get a closer look. "Yeah, that's him. Dammit, I hate being wrong!"

Greg removed the camera from his kit and began taking photographs. "Hey Warrick, we got maggots."

"Great, we got bugs and our resident entomologist is laid up in the hospital."

"Well, can't you guys do this? I mean, it's not like there's ten different types of beetles crawling around."

"You know, anytime there's insect activity we just call for Grissom." Warrick answered. "I haven't had anything to do with this stuff for years, how about you, Greg?"

"I helped him out with a timeline once but that was a while ago. I guess we've all just come to rely on Griss doing it for us."

"Well, we can't just stand here." Brass removed his cell phone from his pocket. "I'm going to phone the hospital and have them put a phone in Gil's room. Maybe he can talk you through it." Before beginning to dial he looked at both CSI's. "I think when Grissom is back on his feet you better ask him to give you all a refresher course, don't you?"

* * *

Grissom had slept for almost four hours, waking just after 9pm. Since then he'd been unable to get any further sleep. Incapable of concentrating enough to read and having no interest in the usual late night television offerings he spent the rest of the night going over the events of the preceding day.

He had worried at first that reliving the events of the incident would have been painful and had considered asking that his friends not be the ones that went over it with him. But he had surprised even himself when he had managed to dispassionately relate what had happened. Still, there was something annoying him and he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

He'd had a quick visit from the plastic surgeon who had explained to him the procedures involved in repairing the eye socket fracture. With the metal rod in his thigh, the plates and screws that would shortly be holding his lower leg together and now the microplates that would be inserted in his cheekbone it's was just as well titanium didn't set of metal detectors; he'd never have been able to go near an airport again. At least Dr. Kovak had said she'd consult with Dr. Morgan to see if they could arrange things so that both delayed surgeries could be done at the same time.

The sooner he could get out of here the better. Because of the work he did he'd trained himself years ago to grab sleep whenever and wherever he could but he'd always had trouble sleeping in hospitals. Because of the concussion he felt nauseated anyway but the food they had tried to get him to eat hadn't helped either.

At least now he had a means of getting out of bed. Dr. Morgan had returned, as promised, late in the afternoon. He and Jenny had applied a fracture brace to his left thigh and then they'd gotten him up on crutches. As much as he would have preferred forearm crutches like Al's, Dr. Morgan had been adamant that the only way he was going to let Grissom get up was by him agreeing to use underarm ones. They had pulled the burnt skin on his chest but that was a small price to pay to be ambulatory again.

All in all it had been a good day. The only disappointment had come when he'd learned from Jenny that he slept through Sara's visit. He hadn't really managed to have much time alone with her since this whole thing had begun and he'd wanted to apologize for the way he'd spoken to her. He knew at the time it was inappropriate but hadn't been able to stop himself. He had no idea where it came from; a sudden spark of fury he couldn't contain.

Noticing daylight was now visible through the window he realized he must have dozed off. He listened for a while to the early morning hospital sounds and wished desperately that he were anywhere else but here. Even a floater in the middle of Lake Mead sounded appealing just now.

He looked to the door as it was pushed open and a nurse appeared carrying a telephone.

"Oh good, you're awake. How are you feeling this morning?" She asked as she bustled about the room.

"A bit sore and the headache's still there but apart from that I'm fine" He replied.

"You're due your medications; I'll get them as soon as I've plugged this in." He watched as she felt behind the bedside cabinet and, locating the socket, connected the phone. She placed it on his tray table and pushed it closer to his bed.

He stared at the instrument. "What's this for?"

"We got a message from your colleague, Captain Brass, apparently there's some sort of problem and they need to be able to speak to you." She removed a slip of paper from her pocket. "Here's the number you can reach him on, just press '9' for an outside line."

Looking at the paper she handed him, Grissom recognized Jim's cell phone number. He waited until the nurse left then dialed. The call was answered on the third ring.

"Brass."

"Jim, it's Gil.'

"Hey buddy, how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. What's this about?"

"We've got a body with insect activity and neither Warrick nor Greg feels comfortable dealing with it themselves. I was hoping you could talk them through it."

"You're joking, right? You really expect me to do a collection over the phone?" Grissom asked incredulously.

"Look, it's been a long night and I'm tired so I'm not in the mood to joke." Brass replied wearily. "The guys are rusty and the only one to blame for that is you. Instead of taking on all the bug cases yourself you should have been making sure your people knew the basics at least. Now, you can either help them out over the phone by telling what they need to do or you can give me the name of someone that _will_ help."

Feeling his headache ratchet up another notch, Grissom gave in. "Okay, Jim. Put Warrick on the phone."

The door opened and the nurse appeared with his meds. He'd just swallowed them as Warrick came on the line. "Hey boss, sorry about this."

"It's alright, Brass is right, it's my fault not yours." He massaged his forehead, attempting to ease the pain. "I'm going to make a phone call and get someone out to help you but in the meantime you could start documenting everything around the body. Take photos, Warrick, lots of them; eggs, maggots, pupal cases and any flies that are hanging around the body. You'll also need to take note of the temperature and humidity at the scene, okay?"

"Got it Griss. Thanks."

"Give me the location of the scene and I'll have someone out there soon."

After receiving the address he hung up the phone then hesitated only a second before picking it up and dialing again.

"Las Vegas Crime Lab." Judy's cheerful greeting came across the line.

"Judy, it's Grissom. Are any of my team there at the moment?" He knew Greg and Warrick's whereabouts but if any of the others were hanging about he might need to rethink his plan.

"Oh, Dr Grissom, it's good to hear your voice. We've all been worried about you. How are you feeling?"

Grissom cringed, deciding he was fed up with that particular question but he answered it anyway. "I'm fine, Judy, thanks. Could you answer my question, please?"

"Sorry. Um, everyone's out, Nick was here but he got a call to a break-in about an hour ago. Did you want to leave a message?"

"No, that's fine." Grissom smiled. "Put me through to David Hodges will you?"

"Certainly, Dr. Grissom, just a moment."

He waited patiently as the call was redirected.

"Hodges."

"David, it's Grissom."

"Grissom, how are you?"

"I'm fine, really, I just went through this with Judy. I need you to do me a favor."

"Of course, anything." Hodges assured him.

"What kind of car do you drive?"

"A Honda Civic, why?"

"That won't work." He thought for a moment. "Look, I need you to sign out a Denali and bring me some things. Grab a pen and I'll give you a list."

TBC


	11. Chapter 13

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 11**

Grissom was sitting on the bed writing in a notepad when Hodges pushed through the door to his room carrying Gil's kit and a sports bag.

"Finally!" Grissom greeted him. "What took you so long?"

"Do you know how careful I had to be so that no one saw me going through your desk and locker? Why did I have to lug your kit all the way up here?"

"Because I didn't want it left out in the Denali and there are things in there I'm going to need. Now, what clothes did you bring me?"

Hodges placed the bag on the bed and proceeded to unpack the contents. "I found a pair of slacks and a jacket in your locker. There were no shirts but I did get some socks and a pair of work boots though I guess you'll only need one of those." He stooped to look at Grissom's outstretched leg. "Wow, that's quite some hardware you've got there."

Grissom grabbed the black pants off the bed and examined the left leg. "Put my kit up here please?" After it was placed up on the bed he rummaged through it until he found a pair of scissors. He slit the pants leg along the outside seam until it reached knee height. "I don't know if that's enough but we'll give it a try."

He carefully moved until he was sitting on the edge of the bed then reached for his crutches. Getting off the bed he stood still until the initial dizziness had eased. He'd had the same problem yesterday when standing and hoped it would pass quickly. Hodges watched as he moved to the chair then turned to sit on the edge of it.

"You're going to have to help me with this; grab the pants and see if you can get them over my ankle."

Slowly and cautiously they managed to get the pants on, discovering they had to add to the length of the slit to accommodate the fracture brace around Grissom's thigh. Winding a length of tape around the leg just below the knee, they ensured that the loose fabric wouldn't flap about. It wasn't the best look but it would do for now.

As Gil pulled a clean t-shirt over his head he instructed Hodges to collect as many of his belongings as he could find.

"Aren't you coming back here later on?" Hodges asked.

"Sure, when they're going to operate again but not today. Hurry up and put everything in that bag."

"What about your medications? You can't leave without those."

"I can and I will." Grissom replied, his patience beginning to run out. "I'll have someone come by and pick it up later. Have you got everything? I need to get out of here before the nurse comes round again."

"You know, I don't feel right doing this."

"Relax Hodges; I'll take all the blame." Shifting over to the bed once more Gil signed the sheet of paper he had been working on then ripped it from the pad and left it sitting on the tray table anchored at one corner by the telephone. He turned to face Hodges. "Okay, now go out there and get rid of the cop."

"What? How do you expect me to do that?"

"Go tell him that since you're going to be here awhile, he might as well go grab a coffee or something. I don't care, just make sure he leaves."

He used Grissom's suggestion and, after having his lab ID thoroughly scrutinized, managed to convince the officer to take his break. Returning to the room he found Grissom searching through the bag again. "Has he gone?"

"Yeah, he's taking his break, we've got fifteen minutes."

"Where are my sunglasses? I told you to bring them."

"Here." Reaching into his shirt pocket, Hodges handed over the glasses. "I've got your cap as well but that's down in the car."

Before leaving the room, Grissom took the opportunity to don his sunglasses being careful not to aggravate either his left cheekbone or broken nose. Even with the blinds partially closed, he was beginning to find the light level in the room uncomfortable; he knew he'd never be able to handle the early morning Vegas sun without protection.

"Okay, grab the bags, we're going."

Hodges lifted both bags and, going to the door, checked the corridor for movement. After giving the all clear he held the door open for Grissom, and then followed him slowly down the hallway to the elevators. Continually scanning for the sudden appearance of hospital staff, he jumped at the sound of the elevator arriving then ensured he kept his back to the security camera for the entire trip down. When his furtive behavior continued as they made their way to the exit, Grissom stopped.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Look, it's bad enough I lied to a cop and, I might add, I had to show him photo ID as I did it; I don't want them having me on camera helping you escape."

"For God's sake, Hodges, I'm simply leaving hospital a little earlier than planned; it's not a prison break. The only way you could possible get in any trouble is if you continue to piss me off!"

Leaving the building Grissom slowed even further, unwilling to risk slipping on the sidewalk. He saw a bench just off the pathway about fifty feet from the door and made that his goal. All he had to do was reach it and then he could sit and wait while Hodges went to get the Denali. It was harder going than he'd expected but finally he was able to carefully lower himself down on to it. Hodges dumped the bag and kit at his feet and hurried off.

As he waited, Grissom wiped at the sweat that had beaded on his forehead from the exertion and briefly wondered if perhaps he was being a bit premature in leaving the hospital. He wasn't _that_ out of shape, surely traveling such a short distance shouldn't leave him wishing he'd stayed upstairs in bed. His thoughts were interrupted as the large SUV pulled to the curb in front of him.

Grabbing hold of both crutches, he pulled himself upright and moved to the rear passenger door as Hodges lifted both bags and placed them in the back. Grissom waited until he returned and then, with Hodges carefully supporting his left leg, pulled himself onto the back seat and slid across it so that his leg could rest along the length. He winced in pain as his leg was jostled when Hodges climbed behind the steering wheel and began to dread the journey to the crime scene.

"You better tell me where we're going." Hodges turned in his seat to look at his boss. Noting the labored breathing, perspiration and pallor of his skin, he tried to offer one last out. "It's not too late to go back upstairs, you know."

Grissom glared at the man. "You got anything to drink in here?" He took the proffered water bottle and took a swig. "I'm not going back." He reiterated.

"Okay." Turning back to face the front, Hodges stared the engine. "Where am I headed?"

"West Sahara Avenue, near the Interstate.

Brass had grown bored watching Greg and Warrick photograph maggots and had decided to wait in the shade of his car. As the sun had risen so had the temperature and it felt like it was going to be a hot one. Crime scene tape had been strung across the entrance to the empty lot and a crowd had gathered on the other side, the usual assortment of curious locals and indigents with nothing better to do than stand around hoping that something exciting might happen. Watching them from his rear view mirror, Brass recognized a couple of reporters from the local paper.

Catching sight of movement, he continued to watch as the crowd parted to admit a large Denali. Stopping at the barrier, the driver spoke to the uniformed officer stationed there who then began to untie a length of tape to allow the Crime Lab vehicle to enter. Brass left his car and started walking back over to the body.

"Help's here." He called as he neared the two CSIs

Warrick stood and looked towards the entrance to the empty lot.

Is that Hodges driving?" he asked disbelievingly, as he peered at the SUV.

Greg rose to stand beside him as the car neared. It wasn't until Hodges turned the vehicle to park parallel to the body that they managed to get a clear view of the 'help' that had arrived.

"Oh my God." Greg uttered. "We're dead; Sara's going to kill us."

Pulling open the rear door, Brass glared at the man on the back seat. "What the hell do you think you're up to?" Anger turned to concern as he got a clearer look at Grissom. "Are you alright?"

Trying desperately not to throw up, Gil was unable to answer. Jim looked over at Warrick. "We've got to get him out of there!"

Hurrying round the vehicle, Warrick opened the door Grissom was leaning against, moving quickly to support his back. As Brass came to help him, Greg climbed into the back seat to guide his leg as the others pulled him out.

Once they had him out of the car, his true condition became apparent. Moving swiftly, Warrick and Jim managed to get him far enough away from the crime scene to avoid contamination before the retching began. With almost nothing in his stomach except water, it was over quickly. When they were fairly certain there was nothing else to come, Warrick gestured towards the one tree that remained standing on the lot.

"How about we get him over there in the shade?"

Knowing Grissom couldn't risk any infection in his leg, Brass called instructions to Greg and within seconds the younger man was spreading a new tarpaulin out beneath the tree. With an arm around each man's shoulders, Gil was able to reach the shade and they lowered him until he was seated, his back against the trunk.

Warrick sent Greg back over to the body while Jim returned to the vehicles. Hodges was busy removing Grissom's kit and crutches from the rear of the Denali as Jim approached.

"Do you have any sense?" he asked angrily. "What are you doing bringing him out here?"

"He called and told me …" Hodges began but Brass cut him off.

"Grissom just had surgery. He has concussion _and_ he's on painkillers; those things alone could account for him being an idiot. What's your excuse?"

"I told him I didn't think it was a good idea." The lab tech added plaintively.

"Just go away, Hodges. I really think its better that you leave… now."

"But I've got Grissom's things."

"Leave them here, and then take the Denali back to the Lab, we'll take care of Grissom."

Dismissing the man, Brass walked over and spoke briefly to one of the uniformed officers. Passing Hodges as he drove out, Jim picked up Gil's kit and bag and placed them in Warrick's SUV. Grabbing a cap, two t-shirts, some bottled water and the crutches he headed back to deal with his friend. Nearing the tree again, he was pleased to see that Grissom was looking a little better.

"Wasn't real smart Gil, was it?"

"No, I guess it wasn't." Grissom admitted as he tried to get his breathing under control again.

The drive to the scene hadn't been long but between the sunlight, heat and the motion of the car he'd begun feeling ill before they'd had even left the car park. Unwilling to give in to it, he'd spent the journey with his eyes screwed shut against the glare, trying to concentrate on something other than being sick. Nothing seemed to work and it was only made worse by the fact that Hodges appeared to have an inbuilt talent for finding every bump, rut and pothole in the road.

Squatting down next to Grissom, Jim folded one of the shirts then soaked it with water before holding it against Gil's forehead. "Better?" Receiving a brief nod, he continued. "We'll have to change your shirt; that one's soaked. Does the hospital know you're gone?"

"They do by now. I wrote out an AMA and left it for them to find." He opened his eyes briefly to squint at Jim. "I'm not going back."

"You do know how dumb you're being, don't you?" Getting no reply, Brass sighed. "Okay, you win. I sent one of the uniforms for a couple of chairs. When he gets back, you're going to sit here under this tree in the shade. I'm not having you go anywhere near that body just to throw up again. Clear?"

"I can't help with a collection from way over here."

"You can't help with the collection if you pass out either, Griss." Warrick pointed out. "How about if we set up the monitor for you and use the video camera. That way you'll probably get an even better view of the body and be able to guide us through it."

Grissom reluctantly agreed and Warrick hurried off to get the equipment set up. As he did that, Brass helped Gil out of his sweat-soaked shirt and into a clean one. Once the chairs had arrived he and the officer helped Grissom up and got him comfortable. After making sure he had plenty of water within reach, Brass walked over to his car and pulled out his cell phone. Dreading the call he was about to make, he began dialing Sara's number.

TBC


	12. Chapter 14

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 12**

Catherine and Sara's night had been long and frustrating. A journey that should have taken forty minutes lasted over two hours thanks to a jack-knifed truck that had blocked traffic across four lanes. Stuck in the middle of the gridlock, all they'd been able to do was wait it out.

Finally reaching their destination, a dirt road off US93, they'd been guided to the scene by the patrolman who'd found it. After greeting Detective Vartann, they'd walked with him to view the body. Just a few feet from the road, the male victim was lying on his back, his features obliterated by what looked very much like a shotgun blast to the face.

Unable to touch the body until it had been cleared by the Coroner's office; there was little they could do until David Phillips turned up. While Catherine photographed the scene, Sara searched the surrounding area for evidence.

"There's nothing here, Cath. There's no way this is the primary crime scene. It's beginning to look like someone pulled over, tossed the body out and took off again."

"Well, it's quiet enough to do that. We've been here a couple of hours and I haven't seen any other cars." Catherine looked at her watch. "I'm going to find out what the hold up is." She removed her phone and began dialing.

Sara was walking along the side of the road searching the hard-packed dirt for fresh tire tracks when she heard Catherine approaching.

"You're not going to believe this! First David gets caught up in the tail end of that mess we were stuck in, and then the van breaks down half way here. They're sending a mechanic out to try and get it started again."

"Don't they have someone else they could send?" Sara asked as she continued scanning the roadside.

"Doc Robbins is flat out at the Morgue apparently and the only other available van is busy doing hospital pickups. They said if the mechanic can't get David back on the road they'll send it out as soon as they can but we could be here for another couple of hours."

They stayed with the body while the uniformed officer left in search of a gas station, returning twenty minutes later with coffee and sandwiches. With nothing else to do the four of them sat in their vehicles and waited.

The sun had risen and, out of boredom more than anything else, the two women were looking around the surrounding area again for anything that may have been missed in the dark. Hearing a vehicle in the distance, Catherine moved up to the roadside pleased to see the Coroner's van approaching.

David pulled the van to a stop and got out, moving to the rear to remove his bag. "Sorry Catherine." He said as they walked towards the body. "It took hours to get the van going; I just hope it holds up long enough to get me back."

As David knelt beside the body to begin his examination, Sara's phone rang. Looking at the screen she noticed it was Brass and moved away to take the call in private.

"Hey Jim, what can I do for you?"

"Well… not getting angry at what I'm about to tell you would be good."

"That sounds rather ominous. What's wrong?"

"Um… it's sort of about Gil."

"Oh my God, what's happened?"

"Nothing Sara, he's fine, really." He assured her. "It's just that he's left the hospital."

"What? Where is he?"

"Well, at the moment he's sitting under a tree watching Warrick and Greg collect maggots."

Feeling as though the effects of the past few days had suddenly caught up with her, Sara wasn't entirely sure she'd heard correctly.

"I'm sorry, Jim, it's been one of those nights and none of this is making any sense." She said wearily. "He left the hospital to go to a crime scene? How did he get there? Hang on, how did he know to go there? When is he going back?"

"We got called to a body and when we found maggots the guys weren't sure of the best way to deal with it so I decided to call the hospital and get Gil's advice. Unfortunately they left the phone with him and the next thing I know he's called Hodges and had him drive him out to the scene."

"And he's going back, when?"

"Um… apparently he's not going back at all. I'm really sorry Sara; I feel like this is all my fault."

When she didn't reply he began to think the call had dropped out.

"Sara? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. I was just wondering how best to kill him."

"Grissom or Hodges?" Brass asked facetiously.

"Either will do. God, what am I going to do? I haven't even started to clean up the townhouse yet."

"Well, you're already staying at my place and so will Grissom. We'll get him settled, get a couple of hours sleep and then go round and start on the house. Look, as soon as the guys are finished here I'm going to take him back to the Lab. I'll go grab what I need from my office then we can take him home."

"Thanks Jim, I should only be another hour or so here."

Sara, he's got a bag here with his clothes in it but there's no medication or anything. You want to phone the hospital and see what they say? He must be about due for the painkillers anyway."

"I'll do that now, with some luck I can pick up his prescriptions on the way back." Frustrated, she ran her hand through her hair. "How can somebody so smart be so dumb?"

"If it's any consolation, he knows it was stupid. The ride over here didn't go down well. I think it's probably the first time Gil Grissom's thrown up at a crime scene in a long time." He was pleased to hear her chuckle. "We'll see you at the Lab later, Sara."

"Okay Jim, see you then."

Catherine approached as Sara disconnected her call.

"David estimates he's been dead for about nine hours." She watched as Sara began scrolling through her phone searching for another number. "Everything alright?"

"Would you believe Grissom's discharged himself from the hospital and is currently helping out at a crime scene?"

"Well, you can't say he didn't warn us." Catherine pointed out. "He never did have much patience with hospitals."

"You know, it's been a strange night." Sara stated as she finally located the hospital's phone number.

"It's not just tonight; the whole week's been strange." Catherine responded.

* * *

Following Warrick's large Denali into the car park of the Las Vegas Crime Lab, Brass heaved a sigh of relief. After questioning Grissom back at the crime scene, he'd learned that his friend took his last dose of Vicodin at about 4:30 that morning. It was now almost 8am and with some luck Sara would be back with his prescription before 8:30.

He helped Gil from the back seat of the Taurus. The ride over had been largely silent and although there had been no sign of the sickness that had occurred during his earlier trip, Jim could see from his friend's expression that the pain was making it's presence felt.

Following slowly behind as Grissom entered the building, Jim wasn't surprised that he barely acknowledged the people around him; he was completely focused on making it to his office. Picking up speed, Brass passed him and lowered the bags he was carrying to push open the door.

He watched as Gil slowly lowered himself onto the sofa and carefully eased his leg along the seat, and then with a shaky sigh he allowed his head to fall against the sofa's back and closed his eyes in relief. "Thank God for that!"

"You want a drink?" Jim offered as he stashed Grissom's kit behind the desk.

"No thanks, I don't want anything just now."

"Sara should be here shortly. She was going to stop and get your prescriptions filled first."

"Good." Grissom opened his eyes to look at Brass. "Could you tell Warrick and Greg I want them to set up in here?"

"You knew within minutes how long that kid had been dead." Brass stated. "You're still going to make them do the work?"

"Why not? They admit they're out of practice. This one's simple. That body only had eggs and first instar maggots, with the temperatures at the moment you could allow one day from laying to hatching and then one day from hatching to first moult. The kid's been dead no more than two days but I'm not telling them that. They've got everything they need here in this office to help them come to the same conclusion." He winced as pain shot through his leg.

"Want me to see if Doc Robbins has anything he can give you?"

"All his patients are dead Jim, I don't see there being a great need for painkillers in the morgue, do you?" Grissom answered tiredly.

"No, I guess not." Picking up his car keys, Brass prepared to leave. "When did you last eat?"

He thought for a moment. "I don't know, sometime yesterday."

"Okay, I've got to shoot over to PD; I'll bring something back with me. You shouldn't be taking painkillers on an empty stomach anyway." He could see by the expression on Grissom's face that the thought of food was not particularly welcome. "How about some soup?

"If it'll keep you happy." Gil conceded reluctantly.

"Good. I'll find Warrick and Greg first and send them in to keep you company."

Fifteen minutes later the two CSIs were pouring over entomology textbooks when Grissom pulled himself up from the couch.

"Want one of us to get you something, Grissom?" Greg asked.

"I'm going to the men's room Greg; I think I can manage that on my own."

It was as he was washing his hands at the sink that he looked up and caught sight of his reflection in the mirror on the wall. He'd seen bits and pieces in the small mirror at the hospital but now he saw the full extent of the damage to his face. The bruising had begun to fade slightly along his jaw, the edges developing a sickly yellowish-green tinge. Surrounding his left eye and cheekbone it was still as dark as before, the depth of color exaggerated by the white dressings across his nose and forehead. Tilting his head slightly he could just see the start of the staples in the gash that ran across his scalp. He examined himself for a few more seconds before heading back to the office.

Passing the layout room, he recognized the interior of his home in some of the photos that adorned the walls and decided to enter. He was staring at images of himself taken at the hospital when Nick saw him and stopped in the doorway.

"Hey, I heard you were back." Receiving no reply, Nick moved further into the room to stand beside his boss. "You really shouldn't be in here, Griss."

"I know."

Remembering how disturbing he'd found it to see the photographs taken at the time of his kidnapping and interment, Nick wanted to spare Grissom any further pain. "How about we get you back to your office?"

"In a minute." He slowly moved until he had a clear view of the mineshaft pictures. Nick watched him, remaining silent.

"I heard your voice." Grissom said almost absently.

"Yeah? I was down there with you for a while."

"Thanks Nicky."

"What for?"

"Finding me… getting me out." Grissom answered quietly.

"You know, I'm real sorry that I didn't realize it was you sooner." Nick said apologetically.

Tearing his gaze away from the images, Grissom turned to look at him. "According to Catherine you were only there ten minutes before you found out. I don't think ten minutes would have made much difference." He felt himself begin to sway and knew he'd been standing too long. "You could do me a favor now though."

"What's that?"

"Make sure this door stays locked. I don't think that everyone that passes needs to see these."

"You got it." Nick assured him. "Come on, I'll help you back."

* * *

Catherine and Sara made it back to the Lab at 9:20am. Once David had removed the body they'd driven to the hospital hoping that the promised prescriptions would be ready to be picked up and they could be on their way. Instead they'd had to sit patiently while the procedure for cleaning around the external fixator was described, the medications were explained and appointments were made for the following week with all three of Grissom's doctors. Finally, with filled prescriptions in hand, they made it back outside.

"Why did we have to sit through all that when she handed you leaflets covering it as we left?" Catherine asked as she settled back behind the wheel of the SUV.

"Pissed off nurses?" Sara speculated. "I guess they're not happy about the escape and we were the only ones available to take it out on. Could have been worse, at least Dr. Morgan wasn't there. Gil can have that lecture all to himself when he sees him on Thursday."

Pulling into the car park, Sara scanned the assembled cars hoping to catch sight of a Honda Civic.

"Looking for someone in particular?" Catherine asked as she pulled to a stop.

"Hodges, but it looks like he's already gone for the day. Pity, I _really_ wanted to have a word with him."

"Careful Sara, if David Hodges gets even a hint of the relationship between you and Gil he'll run straight to Ecklie. You know what he's like." Catherine warned as they both got out of the Denali. "I'll book in our evidence while you go find Grissom; he's bound to need those pills by now."

"Thanks Cath." Grabbing her kit from the back of the SUV, Sara was about to enter the building when Catherine called her back.

"Take the next couple of nights off, Sara. We can cover the shift. Get Gil settled and get your home sorted out. I'm sure you could do with catching up on some sleep too."

"Are you sure? We're already one short."

"I'm positive. The two of you have covered for the rest of us often enough; it's time we returned the favor." Seeing Sara was about to speak again, Catherine got in before her. "Go on, he'd probably kill for those painkillers."

Smiling broadly at the older woman, Sara turned and pushed through the door of the Crime Lab. Walking quickly down the corridor, she could see that the blinds in Grissom's office were shut and the door was closed. Heading towards it she was stopped as Warrick greeted her from the break room. She moved to stand in the doorway, watching as Jim Brass turned from the coffee machine to join Warrick and Greg at the table.

"He's sleeping." Greg informed her.

"Oh, okay. How long has he been asleep?"

"Not sure.' Warrick told her. "We'd just finished what we were doing and I turned to check our findings with him and he was out for the count."

"Well, I'm going to have to wake him up to take his medication. It's already an hour overdue." She moved to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water.

"I've got soup for him, Sara; see if you can get some of that into him before he takes the pills." Jim moved to the microwave. "I'll just heat it up again."

"I'll go and wake him now." She told Brass. "Give me a couple of minutes then bring it in."

Opening the door to his office, she could just make him out on the sofa. Placing the bottle of water and the bag containing his meds on the desk she moved to kneel beside him. Taking a closer look she smiled.

"Why are you pretending to be asleep?" She asked softly.

He opened his eyes and smiled as he whispered back. "So everyone will leave me alone."

"Who's been annoying you?"

"No one really, I'm just fed up with people making sure I'm alright or wanting to get me something."

"Want me to leave again?" She teased.

"No, you I can put up with." He leaned over to give her a welcoming kiss.

She noticed the grimace as he lay back. "Sore?"

"A bit."

"Want to tell me what you're doing out of the hospital?"

Grissom sighed. "There's been a couple of moments when I wondered that myself."

Sara looked closely at him. The fact that he admitted it spoke volumes. Both pain and tiredness were clearly visible on his face.

"I'm sorry. The chance came up so I grabbed it. I spent most of last night awake and staring at the ceiling. I need to sleep but I can't do it there. I just wanted to go home. I needed to be in our bed, with you."

"Okay, I guess I can understand that." She smiled at the look of relief that swept across his face. "Don't think you're getting off scot-free though, no one at the hospital was impressed with your performance."

They both turned to look at the door as Jim opened it and entered carrying a bowl.

"Here you go." He placed the bowl on the desk as Sara helped Gil sit up. "Chicken soup, as ordered."

"I'm really not hungry, Jim."

"Do you want a couple of painkillers?" Brass enquired.

"Yes."

"Not until at least half this soup is gone. I narrowly avoided being puked on once today; that's not happening again just because you took narcotics on an empty stomach." He passed the bowl to Grissom. "Now eat!"

They both watched as he took a few spoonfuls of soup then held the bowl out for one of them to take. "That's it, anymore and I will be sick."

Sara handed him the water bottle and two pills. "How long does it take for them to start to work?" She asked as he swallowed them.

"Not long, ten minutes or so."

"Jim, how about if you bring your car around to the garage door? That way you can drive it inside and it'll save us having to go back out the front way. Then I'll follow the two of you to your place."

"I thought we were going home?" Seeing the sudden scowl of displeasure on Grissom's face, Brass decided to answer him.

"No one's had a chance to get in there and tidy up yet, Gil. Sara and I will make a start on it this afternoon." He turned to Sara. "You may have to hold off on the repainting but we should be able to make it presentable."

"I've got the next two nights off so if Jim helps me make it livable I can do the rest myself." She told Grissom. "We can probably move back in tomorrow."

"Good." He answered sharply. "I didn't leave hospital just to sleep in someone's spare room!"

Giving his friend a glare, Jim turned to address Sara. "How about coming to help me with that garage door?" He looked over at Grissom. "We'll be back to get you in a few minutes."

"I think in future we better make sure he gets his painkillers on time." Brass commented as they closed the door behind them. They turned to see Catherine heading their way.

"How's he doing?" She asked as she came to a stop.

"Grumpy. Hopefully that will improve when the meds kick in." Brass stated.

Catherine turned to the younger woman. "It's just as well I gave you time off, Sara. I'd have to take you off our case anyway."

"Why?" Sara queried.

Catherine held up an evidence bag she was carrying over. "Recognize this?"

"Is that's Gil's watch?"

"Same make and model and there's a scratch in the glass that runs from the one down to the five just like the description you gave us. David just took it off our vic's wrist."

TBC


	13. Chapter 15

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 13**

For the first time in days he felt as though he had actually slept well. The room was in darkness thanks to the block-out curtains pulled over the window and turning to the clock on the bedside table he was amazed to find that he'd been asleep for over three hours. Running his right hand over the other side of the bed he was found it cold and empty; Sara had said she wanted to get started on cleaning up their home and had obviously decided a short nap would do her for now. Grissom had no doubts that Brass would have gone with her.

Turning on the bedside lamp, he noticed a prescription bottle, glass of water with a note. Opening the sheet of paper he discovered he was right; Sara and Jim had headed over to the townhouse and didn't expect to be back until around 3pm.

Reaching for the pill bottle he shook two out and swallowed them down with a mouthful of water then pulled himself up into a seated position. Leaning across he grabbed his crutches then moved until he was on the edge of the bed. Standing carefully, he was pleased to find that, for the first time, he managed to do it without feeling dizzy. If the headache would just disappear as well he might actually begin to feel human again.

Feeling hot, he headed to the bathroom and grabbed a face cloth from the pile of towels that Jim had left for them. After wetting it; he held it against his forehead for a second before wiping it gently around his face. He looked longingly at the shower but knew that with the dressings and the device attached to his lower leg he couldn't take the chance of trying to shower when he was alone in the house. Feeling somewhat refreshed, he returned to the bedroom and lay back on bed.

His mind drifted back to the trip here in Jim's Taurus. Sitting across the backseat, sunglasses over his eyes and ball cap pulled low in the front, Grissom had spent most of the drive looking out the back window, keeping an eye on Sara as she drove along behind them. His observation was only disturbed when Jim spoke.

"What's with the temper tantrum, Gil?"

"What?" Genuinely puzzled, Grissom turned to look at Brass.

"Your little performance back there in your office when you discovered you'd be staying at my place."

Gil had hoped his outburst was forgotten. He was embarrassed by his earlier behavior; he couldn't explain it and he didn't particularly want to get into a discussion about it whilst stuck in a car with Jim Brass.

"I did not have a tantrum. I was just disappointed, that's all." He offered weakly.

"Call it what you will; that's the second time in as many days that you've snapped at Sara for something that isn't her fault."

Brass paused, watching Grissom in the rearview mirror.

"Look Gil, I know you're in pain and I also know you haven't been sleeping properly but neither has Sara. She's been worried about you and has spent the last few days running backwards and forwards between the lab and the hospital. She doesn't deserve to be treated like that."

"I know. I'll talk to her… apologize." Grissom responded, hoping desperately that Brass would let it drop.

"Good, and one last thing, if you say or do anything to hurt that girl, mangled leg or not, I'll knock you flat on your ass before you can get another word out. Understood?"

Yeah Jim, I got it." Feeling somewhat humiliated, Gil turned his head to the rear window again watching Sara as she followed behind.

The car was silent for the next few blocks until Grissom looked forward, catching sight of Brass watching him in the mirror.

"Thanks for looking out for her, Jim."

"I look out for all my friends; you've just got to remember that one little rule." Brass answered. "No hard feelings?"

Grissom had assured him there were none and it was true but he was still mortified that Brass had felt the need to bring it up at all.

He'd been feeling less and less in control of himself over the last few days and had been trying to make an effort to rein in his moods. One thing was for sure, he decided, no matter what he had to do, nothing would be directed at Sara again.

Feeling the effects of the Vicodin, he reached across and turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness once more. The last thing he heard as he drifted back to sleep was the sound of Jim's car pulling into the driveway.

* * *

The next time he woke it was to find Sara moving quietly around the room guided only by the light from the open door. Reaching over he switched on the lamp, surprising her as she passed the end of the bed.

"Hey." He greeted her.

"I was trying not to wake you." She placed the glass she had filled with fresh water on the bedside table. "How did you sleep?"

"Good. I think I've had more rest this afternoon than I did the whole time I was in hospital." He pulled himself up until he was sitting with his back against the headboard. "How was the house?"

She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, facing him. "It's not too bad really. There are a couple of things we had to throw out and we'll definitely need to repaint but I don't see why we can't move back tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" He asked. "We can stay here a bit longer if you want, Jim won't mind." Seeing her quizzical look, he explained his change of heart. "I was being unreasonable before, I already knew that but Jim pointed it out as well."

"Yeah, he mentioned that he had a chat with you." She smiled at his discomfort. "He did say you took it well though."

"I certainly never thought I'd be on the receiving end of the protective father talk from Jim Brass." Grissom stated dryly.

"We'll go home tomorrow." Sara decided. "You'll feel better once you're in your own place. We'll pick some paint colors and I'll get the guys round next week to help out. Now, what do you fancy for dinner?"

"Whatever you're having will be fine."

"I was planning on pasta and salad; think you could handle that?"

"Sure." He answered, surprised to find that the thought of food no longer turned his stomach.

"Jim wants to head in to work early so I'll get his now then come in and eat with you once he's gone." She told him as she moved towards the door.

Half an hour later she returned with two plates. Handing him one, she sat cross-legged on the bed to eat her own meal. She kept up a constant stream of small talk and watched as he ate a quarter of his dinner then spent the rest of the meal pushing the remaining food around his plate.

"So, is this a new diet you're on?" She asked, with a smile, as she finished her own dinner.

He looked at the plate in front of him. "I'm sorry, honey; it's nice, really. I just can't handle anymore right now."

"Headache still going strong?" Getting off the bed, Sara gathered both of their plates to take through to the kitchen.

"Yeah, the Vicodin takes some of the edge off but it looks like I'm just going to have to wait it out." He said as he stretched over to grab the pill bottle and the water glass.

"Sleep's probably the best thing for it." Sara gestured with the dishes she held. "I'll put these in the dishwasher and have a quick shower then we can both get some rest."

Entering the room after her shower, Sara stifled a yawn.

"Long day?" He asked as she neared the bed.

"Very." She answered.

"I'm sorry if I made it more difficult for you." He said as she slipped beneath the sheets. "Leaving the hospital the way I did."

"I still don't know why you got David Hodges to help you, you know?"

"Who else was going to do it without arguing with me?" Grissom explained. "Besides, I've put up with him for so long, it's about time I got something out of it."

He watched as she began to settle down for sleep.

"You could come closer Sara, I won't break." He told her as she perched almost on the edge of the bed.

"I'm afraid I'll hurt you."

"We went through this earlier; you won't, now come here." As she moved over to lie beside him he wrapped his right arm around her and pulled her in tight against his side. "There, see… no pain."

With her head on his shoulder she ran a finger lightly over his chest, avoiding the burn dressing. "Doesn't this hurt?"

"No." he assured her. "All the nerve endings are dead. I can feel the skin pull when I move but that's all."

Feeling her settle more confidently against him, he decided now was as good a time as any to say sorry.

"Honey, I want to apologize for the way I spoke to you back at the lab and yesterday as well."

"That's okay, I understand."

"How can you when I don't understand it myself?" He asked anxiously. "Everything's fine then all of a sudden I feel like I have to lash out."

Hearing the agitation in his voice she propped herself up on one arm to study him.

"You know, it's only been a few days since this happened, Griss. There are a lot of things you've got to work through. We've both seen the processes that crime victims go through; fear, anger, frustration, and in your case, the fact that you're usually on the other side of the investigation." She paused for a moment, pleased to see that he appeared calmer. "Add into that a badly broken leg and severe concussion and I'd probably be more concerned if you weren't acting moody."

"I just don't want to do anything to hurt you or our relationship. With your background the last thing you need is to be around someone who can't control themselves."

"I waited too long for this, Gil. I'm not about to just walk away." She moved her hand to thread her fingers through his. "Just promise me that if you're still concerned about it on Thursday, you'll speak to Dr. Morgan"

"He's an orthopedic surgeon, Sara; it's not exactly his field." Grissom pointed out.

"No, but he could refer you to someone."

"I don't need counseling, Sara." He stated sharply.

"I didn't say a counselor." Seeing the tension in his jaw, she knew she was pushing too hard. Lying back down again, she snuggled against his side. "We'll just take it one day at a time then, but for now: we sleep. Deal?"

"Deal." He agreed as he reached over and turned of the light.

* * *

Lying awake in the dark, he listened to the deep, even breathing of the woman beside him and doubted he'd be able to fall asleep as easily as she had. Feeling restless, he gently removed his arm from beneath Sara, reached for his crutches and left the room.

He sat on the sofa and pulled the coffee table until it was close enough for him to comfortably rest his leg on. Switching on the television, he flicked through the channels stopping when he came across the local news; the lead story confirming that the body found that morning was the missing Councilman's son. No cause of death had been announced but the reporter did speculate that drugs may have been involved.

Unaware that his attention had wandered, Grissom vaguely heard mention of his own name and looked back at the television in time to see a series of photographs depicting his ignominious return to duty at the scene.

Starting with Warrick and Brass hauling him across the lot and supporting him as he threw up then Jim cleaning him up afterwards, they concluded with close-ups of him sitting under the tree looking very much like death warmed up. Disgusted with both himself and the news channel, he turned the TV off before they could go into a recap of his own incident.

Looking around the room, he noticed a few books lined up on a shelf and decided to see if there was any that appealed to him. Unsurprised to find that Jim's library consisted solely of crime novels and sports books, he grabbed one detailing the history of football and settled back down on the sofa to see if it could hold his interest. Within minutes he was asleep the book forgotten in his lap.

He awoke twenty minutes later with a jerk. The dream had been short; consisting almost entirely of the moments before the branding iron had been pressed against his chest. However, it was apparently what he'd been waiting for; he now knew what it was that he'd been missing.

Grabbing his crutches he hobbled into the kitchen and headed straight for the phone. Dialing from memory he waited impatiently for Jim to answer.

"Brass."

"Jim! Have you got the notebook you were using when you took my statement?"

"Sure Gil, what's the problem?"

"Could you read back to me what the third guy said to me just before he used the branding iron?"

"Yeah, hang on." Grissom could hear the pages turning as Jim flicked through to the right place. "Here we go, "If you'd done your job properly none of this would have been necessary. Instead you sat there and drew parallels between yourself and a murderer. I'm just making sure you have one more thing in common." Is that what you were after?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I was after." Grissom smiled to himself. "Jim, there was only four of us in that room. Lurie's dead and I know you and I are clear so that just leaves one person. We've got to speak to Lurie's lawyer."

TBC


	14. Chapter 16

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 14**

Sitting at the table in the Crime Lab's break room, Jim Brass glanced at the caller ID on his cell phone and, once again, let the call go to voicemail. Watching from the other side of the table, Catherine Willows chuckled as he put the phone back in his pocket.

"How many does that make?" She asked.

"I stopped counting at eight." He answered as he flicked through his notebook. "He's using Sara's cell phone now but I'm not falling for it."

"He's not going to turn up unexpectedly again is he?" Nick asked.

"Oh, I doubt it." Brass said confidently. "If he tries that when Sara's around she'll kill him. Not to mention that the only vehicle he has access to belongs to her and he'll never get that leg in a Prius. She's going to swap to the Mercedes to take him back to the townhouse."

"Okay, let's get on with it." Catherine said turning to Nick. "What have you got on those tire tracks?"

"The van looks like it may be a blow out. The wheel base measurements peg it as a Ford Transit, which is about the most popular van on the road. The tires that are on it are a generic brand and there's nothing particularly distinctive about them. I think the only chance we're going to have to find the one we're after is if it's a rental and they returned it without cleaning it properly."

Looking down at the file in front of him, Nick continued.

"I did have more luck with the second set of tracks. They belong to a 2007 Nissan Pathfinder that is still fitted with its original tires. I also compared the shoes belonging to your DB with the prints taken at the mineshaft. He was definitely there."

"Good." Catherine commented. "He now has a name by the way; Jason Beck, also known as Jay, age 32. Older brother of Kevin, the only one we managed to identify from the prints at the house. Just like his brother, we could only find Jason's fingerprints in the military database."

Searching through her file she pulled out the sheet of paper she was looking for.

"This one didn't even make it through basic training. He was kicked out after almost killing another recruit in a self-defense exercise."

She paused as her cell phone rang. "It's says Sara." She told Brass as she checked the display.

"Don't answer it." Jim advised. "I wondered how long it would take him to try your phone."

"He's going to be mad if I don't pick up."

"I'm sure he's annoyed already." Brass stated. "Just ignore him for now; we'll be talking to him soon enough anyway."

"Okay." Catherine continued. "Well, COD was a shotgun blast to the face, death was instant and Doc Robbins estimates he died between 8 and 10pm on Friday night. Sara has also positively identified the watch he was wearing as Grissom's."

She looked at Brass. "How can neither of these guys be in the system? They've both got a history of violence and I don't believe they just confined it to their brief stints in the military."

"Yeah, I couldn't pull up much on them either. Driver's licenses and vehicle registrations; that's it. According to all the usual databases these guys have never had so much as a traffic ticket." Jim responded.

"Are they local, Jim?" Nick asked.

"No, originally they came from a town called Fernley, which is east of Reno. However, last known addresses for both of them are in Carson City. I spoke to a detective with the PD there but they couldn't tell me anything, sounded like they hadn't been in town long anyway. So then I put in a call to Fernley and it seems the sheriff is the only one I can talk to and he's out of town until Monday morning. I've left a message for him to phone me back ASAP."

Picking up his coffee cup, he took a sip before continuing.

"I ran a check on Vincent Lurie's lawyer. Michael Richardson was reported missing ten days ago by his wife. He had apparently mentioned to both his wife and his secretary that he believed he was being followed in the days before he disappeared."

"Where was he when he went missing?" Catherine asked.

"His wife was visiting her mother and he was home alone. Sound familiar?"

"And the scene was never processed?" Nick queried.

Catherine's phone rang again. Jim and Nick watched without comment as she glanced at the screen then replaced it on the table.

Brass turned to answer Nick's question. "What scene? According to Mrs. Richardson, she and her husband had been going through a rough patch and when she got home and he wasn't there she wasn't particularly worried. She assumed he had either been called out by a client or had decided he needed time alone which he had done before. She only became concerned when his office called the next day to find out why he didn't come in to work."

Shifting his gaze to Catherine, he continued. "Now, it may be that he's our third man and he staged his disappearance but I'm inclined to think he's actually at the bottom of a hole somewhere."

"Dammit!" Catherine exclaimed. "Every time we get a little bit further with this thing we end up hitting another wall. Where do we go from here?"

"We'll just have to hope the Fernley sheriff can give us some background on the brothers and release what we have on Kevin Beck to the media; see if we can flush him out." Putting his hand in his jacket pocket he withdrew a disk. "Also, I looked out the recording of the interview we conducted with Lurie. It has the lawyer's voice on it so I'm going to have Gil come in and see if he can ID him as the third perp."

"Hey, we could always just sit and wait for them to come for you, Jim." Catherine suggested, attempting to lighten the mood a little.

"Excuse me?" Nick asked bewildered by Catherine's statement.

"There were four men in that room." She held up four fingers and counted them down. "One dead, one missing, one injured." She pointed the remaining finger at Brass. "Last man standing."

"I had realized that, Catherine." Jim replied. "I plan on being armed at all times until this is over. I'm also going to insist that Gil carry as well, just in case someone decides to come back and finish the job."

"He's going to love that." She commented.

"At this point, I don't care whether he likes it or not." Jim stated. "He either carries his weapon or I'll put a 24 hour guard on him, and I think he'd appreciate that even less."

Looking at his watch he was pleased to see it was nearing 6am.

"I'll wait for another hour before calling the house. Sara was pretty wiped out last night when I left and the fact that Grissom has been playing with the phone all night leads me to think she's probably been asleep."

Deciding they'd spend the time putting together what they had on Kevin Beck, Jim made fresh coffee as Catherine and Nick gathered their notes.

An hour later, they were in Grissom's office. The press release containing the artist's sketch, Beck's license photo and description had been prepared and was on its way to the Sheriff's Office for approval prior to circulation.

There had been no further calls from Grissom during the past hour which was making Jim slightly nervous. He knew it meant that Gil had either fallen asleep or was sitting there fuming. He really hoped it was the former. Knowing he couldn't put it off any longer, he picked up his phone.

"I'm guessing that Gil spent the night in the lounge room." He said as he began dialing his home number. "As long as he's not near the kitchen or bedroom there's a good chance Sara will beat him to the phone."

* * *

Sara woke with the first ring of the bedside telephone. Realizing quickly that she was alone in the room she reached across to answer it.

"Hello" She answered still half asleep.

"Morning Sara, I was hoping you'd answer."

"Jim?" She squinted trying to read the clock but couldn't quite make it out. "What time is it?"

"It's 7 o'clock." He answered. "Where's Grissom?"

"Um… I don't know, I guess he must have gotten up a little while ago."

"Sara, he got up about eight hours ago. He's been driving me nuts with the phone for most of the night. You want to go check on him?"

"Sure, hang on."

Taking the handset with her, she made her way down the hallway. Checking rooms as she went, she finally located him in the lounge room. Returning to the kitchen, she lifted the phone back to her ear as she started a pot of coffee.

"Found him." She informed Brass. "He's asleep on the couch. Why was he calling you?"

"I've been checking out the lawyer Lurie used back when we interviewed him. It was Gil's idea and I guess he got a little impatient waiting for me to get back to him. Look Sara, I've been ignoring his calls and he's probably going to be annoyed when he wakes up."

"Thanks Jim, that's just what I need first thing in the morning."

"Yeah, well you're probably going to love what I'm about to say." He paused for a moment, and then pushed on. "I need him in here this morning to listen to a recording of the lawyer's voice."

"What time do you need him?" She asked wearily.

"As soon as possible, really." He told her. "I'm sorry Sara, I know he's supposed to be resting but this should only take five minutes. Archie's got it all set to go but unfortunately he has to leave by 8:30 so we need it done before then."

"Alright, give me time to grab some coffee and swap the cars over. I'll have him there sometime in the next hour. Okay?"

"That's great, Sara. We'll see you then."

Hanging up, she placed the handset on the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee. Turning from the pot, she wasn't entirely surprised to find Grissom standing in the doorway.

"Want one?" She offered motioning with her cup.

"No. Was that Brass?"

"Yeah, what have you been doing all night?"

"Trying to get him to answer his damn phone. You should have let me speak to him."

"You can speak to him when we get to the lab." She told him. "They need you to listen to a tape."

"When?"

"As soon as I can swap my car for yours and get you there." She informed him, pleased to see that he didn't seem annoyed after all. "Will you please go and sit down; you're supposed to keep that leg raised."

"I need water to take my pills."

"I'll bring you some, now go." She turned to get a glass as he headed back to the sofa.

Following him in, she watched as he took his medication. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Fine." He answered, then noticing her disbelieving look, decided to be truthful. "I started feeling pain in my lower leg about half way through the night. I definitely preferred it when it was numb."

"Headache?"

"No better, no worse."

"Okay. I going to make you some toast." He was about to speak when she beat him to it. "Which you _are_ going to eat! I'll get dressed, go get the Mercedes then pick you up."

"Honey, I'm going to need clothes."

"I'll grab a pair of sweats for you. I don't really want to have to cut up another pair of your good pants. Anything else?"

"I don't think so."

"I'll go make that toast then."

He watched as she left the room, pleased that he'd been able to hide his anger from her. He remembered Jim's rule and he had every intention of following it but there was nothing in it about other people.

He had no control over Brass unfortunately but Catherine was a different story and he intended to let her know exactly what he thought of being ignored.

* * *

Arriving at the Crime Lab, Grissom headed straight for his office, finding Catherine and Jim waiting there for him. One look at his face told them exactly what kind of mood he was in.

"When I phone you I expect you to answer Catherine, especially during work hours."

"I'm sorry Gil. The caller ID said Sara; how was I supposed to know I was you?" She asked flippantly.

"Don't get smart with me; I'm not in the mood."

"Obviously." Brass commented earning himself a glare. "Where is Sara?" He asked, trying to change the subject.

"I told her not to come in with me, she's waiting over at the diner."

"Well, we've got the recording all ready to go so this shouldn't take long."

"I want to see what else you've got while I'm here." Grissom demanded.

"No way." Catherine was adamant. "You're here simply to listen to the tape recording of the lawyer's voice, nothing more. You're not having anything else to do with it just now."

"You insisted on handling the case when your ex-husband was accused of rape, Catherine, so don't suddenly turn into a hypocrite."

"I'm not turning into anything, Gil; I'm simply trying to protect you and Sara. If either of you have anything to do with this investigation, it'll jeopardize the case, you know that."

"Protect us?" He asked sarcastically. "We all know where your loyalties lie, Catherine. They start and end with you. That was made clear when Ecklie split the team."

"What are you talking about?"

"You jumped right on Conrad's little bandwagon when he went gunning for Sara back then, didn't you?"

"She was mouthing off to a superior, Gil, I couldn't just ignore it!"

"And you've never done anything like that in the past have you, Catherine?"

"So now this is about how I treated your girlfriend almost two years ago?" Catherine asked incredulously.

"Let it drop, Catherine." Jim advised.

Ignoring both of them, Grissom continued, his voice getting louder with each sentence.

"Your life has been a constant stream of dramas. How many times have I had to cover for you? Every time you've needed time off to be with Lindsay, I've bent over backwards to give it to you. You use lab resources, not to mention risking Greg's job, to discover that Sam Braun was your father and then you accept money from the man and I'm the one that has to smooth everything over for you with the department."

"Cool it, Gil" Brass warned. Hoping to calm things down he struggled to keep his tone even.

"You're not exactly pure as the driven snow yourself, you know." Catherine countered.

"Go on, rattle them off." He dared her. "Let's see what you've got on me."

"Heather."

"Prove it."

"Sofia"

He laughed at that one. "Oh no, never in a million years."

"Sara."

"That's it, isn't it?" He taunted. "That's all you've got. And ten to one says you're actually just pissed because you never figured it out."

"Gil, that's enough!" Jim demanded, seeing now that things had gotten way out of hand.

"That's it, I'm out of here." Refusing to argue further, Catherine stood and headed for the door, turning to glare at Grissom before she left. "I don't know what's wrong with you but it goes a lot deeper than a broken leg. Get some help, Gil, before someone feels the need to mention it to Ecklie."

Turning, Grissom followed her out; oblivious to the fact that the rest of the Lab was now paying attention to what was going on. Hearing him come out of the office behind her, Catherine turned to face him.

"You threatening me now, Catherine?" Grissom smile was menacing as he stared her down. "If the worst you can come up with is the fact that I'm fucking a subordinate, I don't think I have too much to worry about, do you?"

"GRISSOM!" Jim's yell carried in the silence that had descended as the argument escalated. Staring at the two antagonists he never noticed the person standing beside him until he spoke.

"Oh, I think you may have something to worry about, Gil." Ecklie said sarcastically. "I think we'll continue this in my office, don't you?"

TBC


	15. Chapter 17

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 15**

Conrad Ecklie walked down the hall to his office and waited by the door whilst Grissom remained standing where he was. Looking around, Brass noticed everyone else still watching and waved them back to work, leaving only Catherine, Warrick, Nick and Greg in the area.

"You all right, Gil?" He asked his friend.

"I'm fine." The reply was subdued with no sign of the anger that had been so evident just minutes before. "I just need a second."

"Go speak with Conrad; I'll wait here for you."

"Thanks Jim." Moving forward a few steps he stopped in front of the male members of his team. "Nick, I want everything of mine that is not required for evidence in a box and ready to go in five minutes. Okay?"

"Sure Griss, I'll sort that out now."

The Texan hurried off and the others watched as Grissom headed to the office. He was about to pass Catherine when she spoke.

"Gil, I… "

"Just leave it, Catherine." He didn't look at her but the coldness of his tone was enough to discourage her.

He entered the room followed by Ecklie who then closed both the door and blinds.

Catherine turned and went into the locker room while the men headed for the break room. Brass went straight to the coffee pot and poured himself yet another cup.

"What the hell was that?" Warrick asked as he sat at the table.

"He came in angry and looking for a fight and, unfortunately, he found one." Jim said as he sat beside him.

"Do you think there's anyone about who _didn't_ hear that?" Greg asked rhetorically, taking a seat opposite them.

"What is Ecklie doing her at this time on a Sunday morning anyway?" Jim asked sipping from his cup. "I though he preferred to keep banker's hours nowadays."

"He was checking on the autopsy and tox results on the councilman's kid. Politics, you know." Warrick replied. "What do you thinks going to happen, Jim?"

"I wish I knew." He replied, looking up as Catherine appeared in the doorway.

"I'm going to head over to the diner." She told them. "I think Sara should hear about this from one of us."

"Since you're partly to blame for it, do you really think it should be you?' Jim asked her coolly.

"He started it all, Jim, not me." She tried to defend herself. "I couldn't sit there and not say anything."

"For God's sake, Catherine; you were the one who was adamant at the hospital that his mood swings weren't normal and then you sat in that office and provoked him."

"I got up and walked out, if you remember."

"Yeah, it's just a pity you didn't do that at the start isn't it?" He ran his hand over his face. "Warrick, take Nick and Greg and go to the diner. Let Sara know what's happened but do not let her come back here. Tell her I'll bring Grissom over as soon as Conrad's finished with him."

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Catherine asked him.

"Just go home; I think we've had enough trouble for one day."

* * *

Ecklie watched as Grissom took a seat then headed round his desk. "So, I take it we're not talking about Brown or Stokes here." He said as he sat in his own chair.

"You're hysterical, Conrad." The sarcasm in Grissom's voice was clear. "I'm quite sure you know exactly who I was talking about."

"I'm sure I do too." Ecklie said. "You've developed quite a knack for drama lately, Gil. You get assaulted and dumped down a mineshaft. You announce your arrival at a crime scene by being violently ill in front of a reporter with a camera then you broadcast the news that you're screwing an employee by standing in the hall and yelling it for all to hear."

"I certainly didn't mean for that to happen. Things just got out of hand."

"When?" Ecklie asked. "When the argument with Catherine spilled out of your office or when you started sleeping with Sidle?"

"I'm talking about the fight with Catherine. I don't regret anything about my relationship with Sara." He thought for a moment. "Actually, I'll take that back, I do regret not taking the chance with her sooner."

"Very touching, Gil, but what we have to decide now is what we're going to do about this."

"We don't have to 'do' anything. This has been going on for a long time, Conrad, and no one even suspected. God, if it hadn't been for what happened to me nobody would know now."

"Look, I can understand why you wanted to keep it a secret… "

"It wasn't really a secret." Grissom said. "We didn't tell everyone simply because it's nobody else's business but our own. The last thing either of us wanted was to have our private lives hung out on the lab grapevine."

Reaching forward, he grabbed a glass paperweight from Ecklie's desk and turned it around studying the colors of the pattern inside.

"I'm going to have to file a report about this, Gil. I can't just ignore it." Ecklie told him.

"I never expected you to ignore it, Conrad, you always did love paperwork. There is one thing I insist you put in that report though."

"What's that?"

"That I take full responsibility. Nothing comes down on Sara because of this. I don't care how you phrase it; I'm the one at fault not her."

"You could be putting your reputation at risk; you do know that, don't you?"

"I don't think it's that big a risk." Grissom said. "Besides, my reputation has always meant more to you and the sheriff than it ever has to me."

"I can't let you carry all the blame for this, Gil." Ecklie stated. "You're right, your reputation does mean a lot to the department; if it gets damaged so does the Lab."

"This is non-negotiable, Conrad. Sara is not to have any of this touching her or her record. She does not get penalized for this. I am her supervisor, therefore I am at fault"

"Why are you protecting her?" Ecklie seemed genuinely puzzled by Grissom's resolution.

"I don't know why this is so hard for you to understand!" Feeling the frustration building within him again, Grissom tried to explain. "For the first time in years, I stopped putting other people first and did something purely for me and I haven't regretted a minute of it. That's what I'm really protecting. That's what I don't want to lose." He paused to take a few deep breaths. "And I promise you one thing; if this isn't handled the way I want, I'll take Sara _and_ my reputation and leave. It's as simple as that!"

Ecklie studied him for a moment, seeing by the look in his eyes and his iron-like grip on the paperweight he was holding that Grissom was not going to budge an inch.

"Look Gil, how about if we leave this for the moment? You're on leave anyway so there's not much we could really do until you're back at work. Maybe between now and then we can come to some sort of compromise."

"I want immunity for Sara now." Grissom stated. "She's going to have enough to deal with without having you hold this over her. The minute I'm back you can do what you like to me but I need to know that she's safe."

Seeing Grissom's determination, Ecklie reluctantly agreed.

"Okay, Sidle's immune, you have my word."

"I want it in writing, Conrad. In fact, while we're at it, I want the Sheriff's signature on there too."

With his patience wearing thin, Ecklie glared at Gil. "Is that all, Grissom? You wouldn't like us to double her salary at the same time?"

"No, your assurance along with two signatures on department letterhead will do nicely."

Ten minutes later Ecklie printed out the letter he'd composed and, after getting Grissom's approval on the wording, signed and dated it. After making sure the Sheriff was available, he quickly met with him, explaining what had occurred and what Grissom wanted. He was both surprised and annoyed when he agreed without argument.

Ecklie had been sure the Sheriff would refuse to accede to Grissom's demand but it seemed that, once again, the department's golden boy could do no wrong. Not only was he going to get away with conducting an inappropriate relationship with a member of his team but he was also going to be able to call the shots when it came to what punishment was meted out.

Thoroughly dissatisfied with the way this had spiraled out of his control, Ecklie returned to his office. He ran off copies of the signed agreement for his files then folded the original and held it out for Grissom.

"There you go." He said as Gil took the sheet of paper. "Sidle's free and clear, just like you wanted. I hope she's worth it."

"She is, Conrad. Thanks." Leaning forward, Grissom was about to replace the paperweight on the desk in front of him when Ecklie spoke.

"I can only assume, since you're putting everything on the line for her, that she must be a really good…"

The paperweight was flying at his head before he could finish his sentence.

* * *

Conversation stopped as once again the waitress came by with her coffee pot asking if anyone wanted a refill. Sara and Nick refused having already had enough but Warrick and Greg held their cups out for replenishing.

Sara's initial reaction to the news of Grissom's outburst had been to rush over to the Lab but they'd managed to convince her that Jim's plan for her to stay at the diner was probably for the best.

"I still don't understand." She said, clearly puzzled. "When I spoke to Jim on the phone this morning he warned me that Gil would probably be angry that his calls had being ignored, but he wasn't! Riding over in the car he was perfectly normal, we were even discussing what colors to paint the townhouse. How can he be fine when I drop him off at the door to the Lab and then, all of a sudden, he's angry when he goes inside?"

"I don't know, Sara." Warrick said. "We were in the break room when he arrived and didn't see him until the shouting started but Brass said he was angry and looking for a fight from the moment he came in."

"I'm going to phone Jim, they should have been here by now." Nick stood and went outside to make the call. He was back within minutes.

"He's still waiting." Nick told them. "Apparently everything's been quiet and Ecklie actually left for about ten minutes. Grissom stayed in the office while he was gone and Jim was about to go ask him what was happening when Ecklie returned. He doesn't think it'll be too much longer though."

Five minutes later, talk had turned to sport when Nick noticed Brass pull his car up alongside Grissom's Mercedes.

"They're here." He told the others.

They all watched as Jim briefly spoke to his passenger then exited the car and headed to the door of the diner, leaving Grissom where he was.

"You were quicker than we expected." Warrick greeted him as he neared the booth they were sitting at.

"Yeah, I sort of had to get Gil out of there in a hurry."

"Why?" Sara asked her voice full of dread.

"That would depend on who you asked." Jim answered enigmatically.

Sara stared at him. "What does that mean?"

"Well, if you ask Grissom he'll tell you he was simply trying to give Conrad what he was asking for."

"And what would Ecklie say?"

"That Gil tried to kill him."

"Excuse me?" Warrick asked incredulously.

"Apparently, a comment was made that Grissom didn't appreciate so he pitched a paperweight at Conrad's head."

"Is Ecklie's all right?" Greg asked.

"He's mad but he's fine." He assured them. "They're both lucky that he ducked so quickly. The way the office wall shattered there must have been a lot of force behind that throw. By the time I got in there Conrad was yelling about suspension and Grissom was just sitting there staring at him. That's pretty much when I hustled him out to the car."

"How was he in the drive over here?" Sara asked, concerned.

"Quiet." He replied. "I think he was trying to process what had just happened."

"What they hell is happening to him, Jim?"

"I don't know, but I think we're going to have to do something about it. I was going to insist that Gil carry his gun for his own protection but I can't arm him when he's like this."

"What do we do?"

"I hate to ask this but I'm going to anyway." Jim said looking at her. "Do you feel safe being alone with him?"

"Of course I do." Sara answered quickly. "The one thing I'm absolutely sure of is that he wouldn't do anything to harm me." She smiled at Jim. "Don't worry; I can handle Grissom."

"Okay, you take him home then. Let's see if he can manage to stay out of trouble there."

* * *

Sara left the diner and headed towards Jim's Taurus. Noticing the window was down in the back where Grissom was sitting she stopped as she drew level with it.

"Pleased with yourself?" She asked without looking at him.

"Not really, no." He replied softly.

"That was a particularly eloquent way you chose to tell everyone about our relationship." She leaned back against the side of the car. "Although if that's the way you intend describing it, I'm not really sure that 'relationship' is the right word, is it?"

"I'm sorry."

"From the sound of things you better get used to saying that. First you have a go at Catherine and then you decide to take on Ecklie. Do you intend alienating all of your friends or are you being selective?"

"Conrad Ecklie was never my friend." He stated adamantly.

"Well, if he didn't know that before I'm sure he does now." She said sarcastically. "What did he say?"

"It's not what he said, it's what he was about to say."

"I'm guessing it was about me so, what was it?"

"Forget it; he never got a chance to say it so it doesn't matter." He held out the signed agreement to her. "Here, I got this for you."

Reaching through the window, she took the paper from him.

"We better keep it safe." He said as she began to read. "I wouldn't put it past Conrad to destroy his copy."

Stunned by what she was reading, Sara opened the driver's door and sat down. Grissom watched her from the back seat, catching her eye in the rearview mirror as she looked up.

"What did you do to get this?"

"I took all the blame."

"All the blame for what?" Sara asked suspiciously.

"Our relationship."

She stared at him for a minute before speaking. "So, now we're assigning blame?"

"No! God, I didn't mean it like that." Realizing how it had sounded, he tried to explain. "Look, they could never harm my career as much as they could yours. Whatever punishment they come up with for me, I'll survive. I have enough years behind me and enough contacts that even if they fired me I could get a job in any lab in the country. But, they could destroy you and I won't let them do that."

"So, you're going to take a bullet for me?"

"If you want to put that way… yes, willingly."

As logical as his reasoning seemed, she wasn't comfortable with it. "I thought we were in this equally?"

"We are."

"It doesn't seem that way at the moment."

"Well, if it'll make you feel better, we can tell everyone it was you that threw the paperweight at Ecklie."

Trying to lighten her mood, he was pleased to finally get a smile from her.

Sara got out of the front of the car and opened the rear door. Looking up she noticed the guys still in the diner and trying desperately to make it appear they hadn't been watching. She took the crutches from him as he passed them out but didn't move back, effectively blocking his exit from the vehicle.

"You haven't finished explaining what went on this morning?" She asked him.

"I not sure that I can." He replied honestly.

"You sat in the car discussing paint with me and hid the fact that you were actually really angry, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Then you went gunning for Catherine."

"Yes."

"Why?" She demanded.

"I had been trying to get someone to answer my calls for hours. They ignored me and I got angry."

"So, why did you hide that from me?"

"If you'd known how I was really feeling you never would have taken me there."

"No, I wouldn't have." She stated emphatically. "And you wouldn't have fought with Catherine, you wouldn't have said what you did in front of everyone and you wouldn't have tried to take Conrad Ecklie's head off with a damn paperweight." She paused for a moment to control her own anger. "You do realize you're starting to worry people, don't you?"

"You?" He asked, suddenly feeling ashamed of the way he had manipulated her.

"Yes, and Jim and the guys and probably even Catherine, though I doubt she'd admit that just now." She crouched down so she was now at the same level he was. "I really want to help you but I can't if you won't let me. I have to be able to trust that what you're telling me is the truth."

"Can I tell you something truthfully now?"

"What?"

"I really need to get out of this car."

With a laugh she stood up and stepped back allowing him room to pull himself out of the vehicle. When he was finally upright he balanced himself against the car with one hand whilst holding the other out to her. As she stepped towards him he wrapped her in a one-armed hug.

"I am sorry, honey. I know this hasn't been easy for you and I seem to be doing everything possible to make it harder, don't I?"

"I thought we were over things like this, Gil? I thought we didn't hide things anymore. We did that for years and it never got us anywhere."

"How about if we go home and start over?" He said as he continued to hold her. "No more lies, no more hidden feelings."

"You mean that?" She pulled back so she could see his face.

"Yes, ask me how I am and I'll tell you, ask me how I feel and I'll let you know that too… truthfully, I promise."

"All right." Handing him his crutches, she moved to the Mercedes and had unlocked the door when he called her back.

"There's something I need from you before we go home."

"What's that?"

"Looking back to what happened at the lab, I can see now that things got out of hand, especially when it came to Conrad. I don't know what caused it but I couldn't control it and I couldn't stop it and that scares me." He took her hand and held it as he continued to speak. "What I need from you is the promise that if it looks like that's happening again, you'll get out. Wherever we are, whatever the time, you have to leave so that you don't get hurt."

"You would never…" He cut her off before she could finish.

"Sara, I didn't care what happened when I threw that paperweight at Ecklie. At that moment in time all I wanted to do was to shut him up and the next thing I knew the glass wall behind him was gone and Jim was trying to pull me out of the room. I'm not willing to take that risk with you; that's why you have to promise me that you'll get out before I can do anything. Please?"

Seeing the sincerity in his face, she couldn't refuse. "It's not going to come to that but okay, I promise." She gave his hand a squeeze. "Come on, let's go home."

* * *

The guys watched from the window as the Mercedes left the car park headed for home.

"I guess she can handle him." The amazement in Nick's voice was clear.

"Don't sound so surprised, she has had some practice remember. Their relationship may be new to you but they've actually been at this a while now."

"Did you really warn Grissom about harming Sara?" Greg asked Brass.

"That makes it sound worse than it really was. I just let him know that I didn't like the tone of voice he used a couple of times when he spoke to her, that's all. I guess that was one of the first signs that there was something not quite right with him."

"So, what are we going to do about it?" Warrick queried.

"I'm not sure, but I think the first thing I'll do is have a word with Al Robbins."

TBC


	16. Chapter 18

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 16**

Sara answered a knock at the front door later that afternoon and was only slightly surprised to find Dr. Albert Robbins standing there.

"Hey Doc, I probably don't have to guess what you're doing here, do I?" She said as she gestured him in.

"Jim called me at home." He followed her as she headed to the kitchen. "He's worried about Gil and asked me to look in on him."

"I though as much." Sara said as she moved about the room. "You want a coffee? I was about to make one."

"Sure." Making himself comfortable on a stool at the counter, he looked around seeing no signs of Grissom's presence. "He is here, isn't he?"

"He's in the bedroom" she told him as she placed a cup in front of him. "The swelling in his leg was worse when we got home so I made him promise to stay in bed and rest it."

"Brass told me about this morning." He smiled as he took a sip. "Actually, the gossips told me first but I didn't really believe it until I spoke to Jim. Congratulations, by the way."

"Thanks, that's not quite the way I planned on telling people though."

"I never would have thought it was Gil's style either." He looked closely at her, noticing how tired she looked. "How's he really been, Sara?"

"I don't know." She answered truthfully. "After the last few days I'm not sure whether to trust what he tells me or not. He says he's fine but then he'll do something or say something that is not 'Grissom'."

"Yeah, I got a full report from Jim on what happened at the lab. Has he shown signs of any other violent or destructive behavior?"

"No." She stated. "That scene in Ecklie's office did scare him though; he made me promise to leave before he could do anything to hurt me so I know he's worried about it happening again."

"That's good actually." Robbins commented.

Surprised at his statement, Sara looked up quickly from her cup. "Excuse me?"

"I mean it's good that he's aware of what he's doing." He elaborated. "I'd be more concerned if he wasn't. Brass said he's been having headaches."

"Yes, ever since the attack."

"Is it a constant headache or does it come and go?"

"It seems to be constant."

"How about light and noise? Is he sensitive to either of those?"

"I'm not sure about noise but he definitely has a problem with light." She replied. "If he's inside the lights have to be either dimmed or off and if he's out then he wears a ball cap and sunglasses."

"Would you say there's been a change in his personality?"

"I guess so." She conceded. "I mean, a week ago, Gil Grissom may have felt like throwing something at Ecklie but he never would have done it. He never would have gone after Catherine the way he did either."

"One last question, do we know how long he was unconscious?"

"Not exactly." Sara told him. "Going by the timeline Catherine and Nick drew up it was probably a couple of hours. He did come to briefly in the ER but he wasn't awake properly until after surgery."

"Was he lucid in the ER?" Al queried.

"We didn't think so at the time but later we found out he was trying to tell us about evidence that was left here."

"That's good. So, all of these symptoms have appeared since the incident and most have manifested themselves over the last three or four days, correct?"

"Yes, I guess so. Do you know what the problem is?" She asked hopefully.

"I have a fair idea." He answered. "I want to see Gil first, hopefully without letting him know why I'm really here, but as soon as I've done that you can make me another cup of coffee and I'll tell you what I've come up with."

* * *

Al Robbins entered the bedroom then turned to close the door behind him. The room was dim, lit only by the glare coming from the television, but he could clearly make out the form of his friend lying on top of the bed.

At first glance he'd thought Gil was watching the baseball game that was showing but as he drew closer to the bed he could see that although Grissom was looking at the screen he certainly wasn't seeing it.

"Gil?" He said softly, not wanting to startle him.

Grissom's eyes snap back into focus as his name was called. Surprise registered on his face at the Medical Examiner's sudden appearance in his bedroom.

"Hey Al, what are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd just swing by and see how you're doing." He saw Grissom glance at the TV and then at the bedside clock, confusion apparent on his face. Looking at the screen himself he noted that that the game was almost over. "What's the last innings that you remember seeing?"

"Um, top of the fifth." Grissom answered. "I must have dozed off."

"Only if you've begun sleeping with your eyes open." Robbins informed him. "Has that been happening often?"

"Not that I'm aware of, I guess I'm more tired than I thought." He looked at Robbins standing beside the bed. "There's a chair in the corner if you want to pull it up and have a seat."

Since it was obvious Grissom wanted the subject dropped, Al decided not to push it. Grabbing the chair, he pulled it over until it was beside the bed then sat, placing his own crutches against the bedside table.

"So, Sara's banished you to the bedroom?"

"She wants me to keep my leg up and apparently I'm less trouble if I'm through here than on the couch."

"Well, the more you keep your leg elevated; the quicker the swelling will go down, you should know that. Actually I was hoping you'd let me have a look at it."

"Running out of dead people to examine, Albert?"

"Hey, it's not often I get to examine someone with a heartbeat, you could at least humor me."

"If it'll make you happy then go ahead; I'm all yours." Grissom said as he relaxed back against the pillows.

After a thorough examination, Robbins sat back in the chair and regarded his 'patient'. "I'm still amazed you didn't do any damage to your knee or hip when you fell."

"Yeah, I guess I was lucky in that regard." Gil commented dryly.

"So, when do you go back to the hospital?"

"I see all three doctors on Thursday. Hopefully the swelling will be down enough that we can get the surgery scheduled quickly."

"That's good; things will be a lot easier for you once you lose the fixator." Al said as he, once again, looked at the metal device protruding from his friend's lower leg.

"So when do you think they'll clear me to return to work?" Gil asked.

"I imagine they'll want to see how the surgery goes before making that decision."

"Come on, you must have some idea." Grissom pressed. "What? A couple of weeks?"

"If it was a normal fracture you could probably go back after just a few days, but you don't have a normal fracture. I guess you left hospital before your surgeon had this talk with you."

"I only saw him once or twice." Grissom admitted.

"Gil, with a tibial plafond fracture you won't be able to bear weight on that leg for at least eight weeks after surgery. It can take up to four months to heal and some patients aren't able to return to work for six months or more."

"What?" Disbelief was clear in Grissom's voice.

"I wish you'd stuck around long enough to discuss this with your doctor." Robbins said, more to himself than to Grissom. "I read up on it after seeing the medical report on you. It could take up to two and a half years for the injury to settle down. The permanent effects on ankle function with this type of fracture are substantial. A third of patients will be left with a noticeable limp and around ten percent will end up having the ankle joint fused because of persistent pain. I'm sorry Gil; it's one of the worst fractures you could have."

"No it can't take that long. I have to be back at work!" Grissom insisted.

"You'll probably be able to return sooner, Gil, you'll just be restricted to desk duties."

"No, you don't understand." He snapped. "I want this case solved now."

"The team's on it, I'm sure they're doing the best they can." Robbins said, trying to calm things down.

"No Al, they're not! If they were doing their best they'd have a name by now, instead all they've got is a dead body and some tire tracks. I don't know what Catherine's doing but she's certainly not trying to solve this case."

Deciding he wasn't going to be able to placate Grissom and having seen all he needed to, Robbins decided to beat a hasty retreat.

"Gil, you're being unreasonable" Standing up he grabbed his crutches and moved to the door. "I'm obviously upsetting you so I'm going to leave now but you've got to calm down. It's not going to do you any good getting worked up like this."

Getting no response from the bed, he opened the door. "I'll drop by to see you in a couple of days."

Entering the kitchen, he found Sara about to fill his cup again.

"I started a fresh pot as soon as I heard the volume raising. I figured you'd get out pretty quickly once he started."

"Doesn't take much to set him off, does it?" Al said as he took a seat. "By the way, I think we can add paranoia to his list of symptoms. I have a feeling the whole thing with Catherine is because he's convinced himself she's after his job."

"But Catherine's been acting supervisor plenty of times; he's never had a problem with it before." Sara said, amazed at his suggestion.

"I know it isn't rational, Sara but paranoia rarely is." He pointed out. "Catherine did something he didn't like and then stood up to him; in his mind that means she's against him. He's decided that he can't trust her and I'd be surprised if she's the only one he turns against." Pausing for a moment, he decided now was as good a time as any to share his conclusion with her. "Actually, paranoia fits in nicely with my diagnosis."

"Which is?" She prompted.

Reaching into his pocket he withdrew a folded sheet of paper. Smoothing it out, he pushed it towards Sara. "Read through this list and tell me how many of these other symptoms you think apply to Gil."

Sara scanned the list. "Dizziness and headaches definitely." She said as she read. "Mood changes, temper outbursts, attention and concentration difficulties, irritability, fatigue and insomnia. It looks like he's got most of these, Doc." She handed the paper back to him.

"There are some others that aren't on this list but these are the main ones and to get a positive diagnosis he really only needed to have any three. You just read off nine."

"So what does that mean?"

"It means that I believe Gil has Post-Concussion Syndrome."

"Post-Concussion Syndrome? I've never heard of it."

"Most people who suffer a concussion will recover quickly with no long-term effects. However, around 10 percent of patients will go on to develop PCS to some extent." He explained. "Now, for most of that 10 percent the symptoms will be what we would consider minor; persistent headaches, dizziness, things like that. Then there's a smaller group, which is the one I think Gil is in; they will have the same 'minor' problems but they'll be compounded by symptoms like mood swings, memory problems, even violent outbursts."

"So, that's what the problem is?"

"I'm fairly sure it is. Has he been seen by his usual doctor since he left hospital?"

"No, I did suggest it but he refuses to go. He has appointments at the hospital on Thursday though."

"Good. I'm assuming his Orthopedist is his primary physician at the hospital."

"Yes, Dr. Morgan."

"I've heard of him." Robbins thought for a moment. "I'll give him a call and tell him what's been going on and what I've come up with. I'd like to have a MRI run on Grissom, just to be on the safe side. If Dr. Morgan agrees with my diagnosis I'm hoping he'll order a neurological consult."

"So, what's the treatment for Post-Concussion Syndrome?" Sara asked.

"Unfortunately, there isn't one; it really just has to run its course."

"And how long is that likely to be?"

"That's difficult to say, it varies between three months and a year." He paused, seeing the shocked look on her face. "It's not all bad Sara, it won't always be at the level it is just now. Over the next few weeks some of the symptoms will begin to ease off and some will disappear altogether. Once that happens we can help him by treating it symptomatically; pain relief, sleeping pills even anti-depressants if they're needed. And with assistance he can learn to control the anger and impulses. The hardest part will probably be getting him to accept the help he's going to need."

"So, how do I deal with it in the meantime?"

"I think the best thing you can do is what I did." He told her. "If you see him getting wound up, just leave the room. Don't argue with him, you won't win and it will just feed his anger."

"God, it's just one thing after another, isn't it?" She said wearily.

"I imagine that's how Gil feels too." He commented. "Don't forget, we're talking about a man who has spent most of his life in complete control of everything around him and suddenly all of that is taken away. He gets attacked in his own home, everyone knows about his private life, he's physically restricted because of his injuries, he can't do his job and now he can't even control his feelings and emotions."

"So, do we tell him about this just now?"

"I wouldn't. Robbins advised. "I have no idea how he'd take it at the moment; let them deal with him at the hospital on Thursday."

Sara nodded her agreement and he watched as she ran her hands through her hair, tiredness and frustration evident in her movement.

"How are you holding up, Sara?" Al asked her. "It's been a tough week for you too."

"Last night I had the best night's sleep I've had in a long time. Griss was out of hospital and he seemed to be doing well. I figured we'd come back home, he'd get better and everything would go back to normal." She laughed ruefully. "Then, in the space of a couple of hours this morning, everything went to hell… again."

Realizing what she needed more than anything just now was assurance, he gave it to her.

"It will get better, Sara. At least now we have an idea of what we're up against." He stood up and collected his crutches. "I'm going to head off now. I'll let Jim know what's going on but I think we'll hold off on telling the others until tomorrow night when you're there. In the meantime, I suggest you get an early night, okay?"

Escorting him to the door, Sara opened it and stood back to allow him to pass. "I will, Doc and thanks."

* * *

Later, after securing the house for the night, she entered the bedroom to find Grissom still awake and waiting for her. She'd been grateful when she brought him his meal and medications that he was acting normally with no sign of the temper that had flared earlier.

Getting into bed she lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes.

"Tired?" He asked as he watched her.

"Yeah, very." She replied.

"Turn on your side with your back to me."

"Why?"

"Trust me, you'll sleep better."

He waited as she did as he said and then reached across himself and placed his left hand on her hip.

"Don't move." He instructed her.

She lay still as he, very carefully, turned himself onto his right side, using his good leg to guide and support the injured one. Finally in position, he pulled her backwards until she was flush against him. He smiled as he felt her instantly relaxing into their usual sleeping position.

"Better?" He asked.

"Much." She replied as she felt his arm curl around her. "Are you alright lying like this?"

"As long as you don't kick backwards I'll be fine." He assured her.

He moved his hand and began running his fingers lightly up and down her arm. Soothed by the caress she was almost asleep when she realized he had spoken.

"What was that?" She asked drowsily, as he continued the movement against her skin.

"I said I don't want Al Robbins in this house." Her eyes shot open at his statement and widened further as he amended it. "In fact, I don't want any of those people in my house again."

TBC


	17. Chapter 19

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 17**

Grissom jerked awake, chased from sleep by a slideshow of nightmare images; visions of his own ordeal mixed with victims and crime scenes he had worked in the past. He lay still in the darkness, trying to regain control of his ragged breathing. It wasn't until he felt the discomfort of his sweat-soaked t-shirt that he finally moved.

Fumbling for the switch of the bedside light, he winced at the brightness as it flooded the room. Checking the clock he was surprised to discover it was after 8pm. He picked up the folded note Sara had obviously put there for him: a meeting had been called at the lab and she had left for work earlier than planned. Screwing the paper into a ball he sighed when the realization hit that he was actually glad she wasn't at home.

The atmosphere had been strained since he'd made his announcement the night before. Sara had never said a word but he'd known by the stiffness of her body as he held her exactly what she thought of it. Grissom had only been able to remain in that position for a short while, eventually having to return to lying on his back. Rather than turn towards him as she would normally have done, Sara had moved away from him, closer to the edge of the bed, and stayed there for the rest of the night.

He'd spent the day alone in the bedroom, Sara really only entering it to bring him meals and barely speaking to him at all. Grissom was actually grateful that she'd chosen this particular method of showing her disapproval; the cold shoulder he could handle but an argument was a different story. He was aware that his control had slipped even further and had no desire to test how far by fighting with her. The one thing that was a constant in his mind was the directive he'd been given by Jim.

Still, Grissom had found himself beginning to wondering how much he could really trust her. He'd heard her yesterday speaking to Al Robbins in the kitchen and, this morning when Brass had dropped by. He hadn't been able to make out what they were saying though and that made him feel uneasy. Gil was pleased however, that she had obviously refused Jim entry to the townhouse; their ten minute conversation taking place entirely in the driveway.

Getting out of bed, he stood still until the dizziness had passed then made his way into the bathroom. Sara had helped him shower yesterday after they arrived home but this time he was on his own.

Opening the cabinet, he removed the roll of garbage bags and tape they'd used yesterday. Making sure everything he needed was within reach; he stripped off and sat carefully on the edge of the tub. Leaning forward and ignoring the pain from his bruised chest and back, he tried to get the bag over his foot and ankle without catching it on the metal fixator. It took three attempts but he finally managed, securing it just below his knee with tape.

With his patience running out, Grissom decided against trying to waterproof anything else. Removing the fracture brace from his thigh, he unwound the heavy bandages. After stripping the gauze from both wrists, he stood and watched in the mirror as he peeled the dressing from his forehead, flinching slightly as the line of stitches came into view. That only left the burn dressing on his chest and he realized he couldn't face taking that one off himself so, folding another plastic bag to size, he taped it over the top.

Finally ready, Gil turned the shower on. He stood beneath the cascading water, one hand braced against the wall the other grabbing tightly to the top of the shower screen. He was proud of his accomplishment; it may have taken much longer than when Sara had assisted him but he'd proven he could safely do it himself.

It was twenty minutes later when he was drying off that he realized what else he could do himself. If Catherine and the others had no interest in solving this crime, he'd do it. He'd just have to make sure that no one found out what he was up to.

* * *

The message from Brass had been short and to the point: all members of graveyard were to meet in Grissom's office one hour before shift started.

Catherine entered the room, coffee cup in hand, to find Nick, Warrick and Greg already waiting there.

"Hey guys." She pulled up a chair and sat down. "Any idea what this is all about?"

"We were just going to ask you the same question." Warrick replied. "I guess it's got something to do with Grissom's case."

"I think we're about to find out." Greg was looking down the hall as he spoke. "Brass just walked in with Sara."

The pair entered the office, Sara taking a seat next to Greg while Jim rounded the desk to Grissom's chair. "Good, you're all here." He commented as he sat down.

"Do you plan on telling us what this meeting's for, Jim?" Catherine asked.

"In a minute." He promised. "There's one more person coming."

"How's Griss, Sara?" Warrick asked as they waited.

She hesitated before answering. "He's… okay, I guess. He was sleeping when I left to meet Jim for dinner."

Greg leaned sideways in his chair towards her. "You look pretty tired for someone who just had two days off."

"Yeah, I didn't sleep too well last night."

Catherine looked at the younger woman and was about to speak when the familiar figure of Al Robbins appeared in the doorway.

"Evening everyone." He greeted as he closed the door then moved to take the last remaining chair around the desk.

They all turned expectantly to Brass.

"Okay, since we're all here let's get started." He turned to look at Catherine. "Cath, looks like you've been right from the start."

"I have?" She looked confused. "About what?"

"You said there was something behind Gil's behavior and it turns out you were correct." Seeing he had everyone's attention, he continued. "I asked Al to stop by and see what he thought and it seems he's come up with a diagnosis. You want to take over from here, Doc?"

After giving everyone a run down on Post-Concussion Syndrome and why he believed it applied to Grissom, Robbins waited for the questions to start.

"It makes sense." Warrick nodded. "But plenty of people get concussed each day, why haven't we come across this before?"

"Most concussions occur with a very brief loss of consciousness or even none at all. There seems to be a direct correlation between the length of time a person remains unconscious and PCS. Gil was out for at least a couple of hours." The coroner explained. "Between that and the fact that he actually had multiple blows to the head; he was a prime candidate for developing it."

"Did you manage to speak with Dr. Morgan?" Sara asked, turning to face him.

"Yes." Robbins replied. "I actually met with him before I came here. He agreed to list me in Gil's file as his family doctor; it was the only way he could really discuss the case with me."

"And what did he think?"

"I explained everything to him and he agrees that it most likely is PCS. While he has Gil at the hospital on Thursday he's going to schedule him for CT scans and a MRI. He also wants to get the second surgery done as soon as possible, just in case the uncertainty about that is making things worse. So, we've come up with a plan."

"What kind of plan?" Jim inquired as he leaned back in his chair.

"Gil's eye socket is safe enough to operate on now and if we can get the swelling down enough in that leg by Thursday, they're prepared to go ahead with the surgery. Morgan has already tentatively scheduled it for Friday morning." He looked at Sara. "Most of that's going to be down to you. He has to keep that leg elevated, that's the only way it's going to go down; he doesn't have enough feeling in that area yet to risk using ice on it. If that works, and they decide to operate, they'll admit him there and then; that way they'll also get a chance to observe his behavior and, hopefully, get a neurologist to see him."

"Well, what can we do?" Catherine asked, wanting to help out.

"_You_ can't do anything, I'm afraid, Catherine." Robbins said. "I'm sorry, but I don't want you anywhere near him just now."

Confused she looked around the group. "What? Why? If it's because of that scene in the hallway, he was more to blame for that than I was!"

"That's not the problem" Al told her. "I believe he's convinced you're after his job. Also, he seems to think you're not trying to solve his case."

"That's ridiculous!" She looked around the group indignantly.

"I agree with you, Cath." Brass jumped in. "But, unfortunately that's the way his mind is working at the moment and nothing you or I say will change that."

"What about the rest of us?" Greg asked. "Surely we can do something to help."

Sara opened her mouth to speak but was beaten to it by Robbins. He spoke to Greg but was actually addressing the entire team. "I think the best thing any of us can really do is support him. We have to understand what it is that he's going through rather than condemn him for what he says or does, because to a large extent he can't control that at the moment."

In the silence that followed the statement, Sara finally got her chance to speak up.

"Doc, remember when you said he'd probably turn against more people?"

He understood immediately what she was trying to tell him. "So, I'm on his list as well now, am I?" He asked her, and then looked at Catherine. "That'll teach me to stand up for you."

"Um… it's not just the two of you." Sara admitted as she looked around at everyone.

"Wait a minute!" Brass demanded. "So, when I arrived at your place this morning and you came hurrying out saying he was asleep and you didn't want to disturb him… what the hell did I do?"

"Nothing." She assured him. "And neither did Warrick, Nick or Greg, but as of last night he doesn't want any of you near the townhouse." Looking at her shocked colleagues, she continued. "I'm sorry. I don't like it, and he knows I don't, but I do know life's going to be a lot simpler if everyone stays away for now."

"And if he turns against you?" Nick asked, concerned for his friends.

"I don't think he will. If anything he's protective of me." She looked at Brass. "Your talk with him certainly made an impression."

"Okay Sara, I guess you're on your own." Robbins said looking at her. "There's just tomorrow and Wednesday to get that swelling down. The best way is to have him flat on his back with his leg higher than his heart. The less he gets up and moves around the better."

Sara nodded that she understood.

"Do you want me to sign you off for tonight again?" Catherine offered, if the only way she could help out was to give Sara time off, so be it.

"No, I'll stay. When I left he was in bed with his leg up on a couple of pillows and he actually looked comfortable for the first time in days. He can't be bothered with reading or TV at the moment so I can't see him moving around too much. He'll be fine for tonight." Sara answered confidently.

* * *

Entering the kitchen, the first thing Grissom noticed was the cardboard box that was sitting on the counter. Checking the contents he was pleased to find his wallet and cell phone among them. He remembered asking Nick to get his things together before his meeting with Ecklie but hadn't given it another thought after Brass had hauled him out of the lab. This must have been the reason Jim stopped by this morning. He put his phone on to charge before he began gathering the other things he would need.

Half an hour later, he was seated at the table, laptop in front of him, notepad and pen nearby and hot coffee to hand. Connecting to the internet, he first checked his email accounts. Few people knew his private address, he rarely handed it out; so he was surprised at the number of messages that had been accumulating. Deciding they could wait until later, he switched to his work account. Email was the only part of the Crime Lab's computer network that he could access remotely and after downloading the list of messages he logged out and headed to Google.

Grissom wondered where best to begin. The team claimed to be chasing the Beck brothers and their vehicles so there was no point starting there. It would be easier to tackle something unique to the case. He typed in "Branding Irons" and hit search.

When the list appeared, Grissom was amazed at the number of hits. He's hoped he might find a dozen or so companies making branding irons scattered around the country but it looked more like a hundred. Narrowing the search to a smaller area would be useless as most of the sites boasted about the speed of their mail-order service. All that was needed was a diagram of whatever it was you wanted on the iron and it could be manufactured and shipped anywhere within days.

Grissom thought for a moment; if he had a clear photograph of the burn on his chest before they had done the debridement he could email it to each company and hope one of them recognized it. Getting up he retrieved his phone and searched for the number he needed.

* * *

As his cell phone began to ring, David Hodges looked up from the microscope he was using and quickly glanced at the display. His stomach knotted as the name 'Grissom' flashed on the screen. Knowing he couldn't ignore the call, anxiety washed over him as his finger reached for the answer button.

"Hodges"

"It's Grissom, David. How are you?"

"I can't drive you anywhere!" He almost stuttered as he rushed to get the statement out.

"I don't need you to take me anywhere." Gil promised the nervous tech. "I was actually calling to find out what time you'd be taking your break tonight?"

"Why?" Hodges was instantly suspicious of the motivation behind Grissom's question.

"I'm bored here at home by myself so I thought I could buy you a meal to say thanks for your help the other day."

"Well, that's very nice of you." Hodges replied, flattered to be on the receiving end of special attention. "I was going to brown-bag it but I'd be honored to join you."

"Great." Grissom smiled, pleased at how easily this part of his plan was coming together. "Where would you like to eat? Try not to make it too close to the lab though; I'd hate to be disturbed."

Hodges was slightly disappointed; he'd have liked nothing more than for someone from the lab to see him sharing a meal with Gil Grissom. "Um… you know there's a 24 hour diner on Paradise Road that's supposed to do great burgers, would that be alright?"

"Perfect. What time will I meet you?"

"I usually eat around 2." Hodges advised him.

"I'll see you there at 2 then, Dave."

Grissom hit the end button on his cell phone and grinned. While David Hodges had come in handy at the hospital the other day, he'd really only acted as a glorified cab driver, and a not very good one at that. Now it was time the annoying little sycophant was put to some real use.

TBC


	18. Chapter 20

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 18**

Assuming the meeting was over; Nick and Warrick had risen and were heading to the door when they were called back by Catherine. She waited for them to return to their seats before going on.

"I got an email from Ecklie before I left this morning." She informed everyone. "It was actually advance notice of a memo that will be released at the beginning of shift tonight."

"What's in the memo, Cath?" Nick asked, warily.

"It's to inform everyone that he's officially suspended Grissom."

"Suspended for how long?" Sara prompted.

"Indefinitely, but that's not the worst bit."

"It gets worse than an indefinite suspension?" Brass queried.

Catherine nodded. "What the memo doesn't mention are the terms of Gil's return to the lab. Apparently, he won't even be allowed in the building without medical clearance and a psychiatric evaluation. And the Sheriff's backing Conrad on this one."

"Dammit!" Robbins spat out, surprising the group. "If it was just the physical then we wouldn't have any trouble getting Gil cleared for desk duties once he's had this surgery. It would probably do him good to concentrate on something other than what happened; but there's no way, in his current condition, he'll pass a psych evaluation."

"So what do you suggest we do?" Brass asked the coroner. "Should we even tell him?"

"The way things are just now, I wouldn't like to predict how he'll react to this." The Coroner said. "I'm sure he guessed that Conrad would do something in retaliation, so he's probably expecting the suspension. However, I don't think questioning his mental health is going to go down too well, particularly if I'm correct about the paranoia."

"What do you think Sara?" Warrick asked the brunette. "This is probably going to have a greater impact on you than the rest of us."

She thought for a moment before answering. "I would normally be inclined to tell him the truth, but if we're going to stand any chance of getting his ankle ready for surgery this week then maybe it would be better to only tell him part of it." She looked around the group. "Doc was right. Grissom knew he was going to be suspended, so I'll just tell him it's now official and he can't come back until his doctors have approved it. Technically, that wouldn't even be lying."

Brass spoke up. "I agree. If we tell him the whole truth it might just set him off again which, for both his sake and Sara's, I think we should really be trying to avoid."

"So, we're going to tell him about everything except the psychiatric evaluation?" Catherine asked, wanting to get it clear.

"I think that's the best idea for the moment." Robbins stated. "Let's get this surgery over and done with and hopefully things will settle down a bit."

"I guess letting him loose with a gun for protection is out of the question?" Brass stated rhetorically.

"That would be a fair assumption to make." Robbins responded.

"I'm going to have to put a 24 hour watch on the townhouse. Sara, I also think it might be wise not to take your weapon home with you, just to be on the safe side." Jim watched as Sara nodded her agreement. "Does Gil still keep his in his kit?"

"As far as I know he does." She rose from her seat and retrieved the case from behind the desk. Opening it up, she lifted Grissom's .38 from the top compartment and handed it to Brass.

"I'll take this back with me and keep it in my office for him." He checked the firearm, confirming it was safe before putting it in his jacket pocket.

"Jim, there's one more thing." Al Robbins stood, getting ready to head to the morgue. "You might want to ensure that whoever's keeping an eye on Gil's house knows to be as unobtrusive as possible. I don't think we should let him know he's being watched."

"Okay, Doc, I'll make certain that they keep out of sight." Jim spoke to Catherine as everyone filed out of the office. "I have to head over to PD for a couple of hours but do you think you, me and Nick could meet up before the end of shift. I finally got a call from that sheriff up in Fernley. He wasn't exactly a mine of information but he did say he'd email me whatever information he could find on the Becks. It should be in by now."

"Sure, I've got assignments to hand out to the others but I was planning on going over what we have with Nick anyway. What do you think? Around 2:30?"

"That works for me." Brass said as he walked towards the door. "I'll see you then."

* * *

Grissom spent the next couple of hours compiling a list of what he needed to get done as well as setting up a database to track information as he gathered it. He also tackled the laptop; setting up as many levels of security as he could to prevent anyone being able to access it.

With 45 minutes to go before he was due to meet with Hodges, he rummaged through the desk in the guest room until he found what he was after: the flash drive he'd purchased a few weeks ago. Ripping open the packaging, he placed the drive in the pocket of his sweats and after grabbing his wallet, keys and cell phone, headed to the garage.

Working out the best way to get into the Mercedes took longer than he expected. By the time he managed to get behind the wheel he was running late. He drove cautiously, feeling every bump in the road as it vibrated up through his leg. The street lighting and headlights from oncoming vehicles seemed to drill directly into his brain.

After pulling into a space in the car park of the Paradise Diner, Grissom reached into his pocket and withdrew his Vicodin. He dry swallowed two and hoped they'd take effect quickly. He'd waited to take the medication, wanting to be clear-headed when he drove for the first time. But since he was now at his destination _and_ he was going to have to socialize with David Hodges, he wanted to dull as much pain as possible.

He retrieved his crutches from the passenger side of the car and carefully got out of the vehicle. Pulling his cap on, he headed towards the building. Grissom glanced in the large plate-glass window as he neared, seeing Hodges rise from the table he had been sitting at and hurry towards the entrance. By the time Gil reached the door, David was holding it wide open for him.

"You're certainly looking a lot better than the last time I saw you." The lab tech greeted him as he entered. "Our table's over here." Hodges rushed past other diners to get in front of Grissom and pull a seat out for him. He continued to fuss about trying to help as Gil guided his leg onto an adjacent chair.

"Sit down, David." Grissom insisted. "I'm can do it myself – really."

Hodges sat and began fidgeting with the salt and pepper shakers that sat in the middle of the table. Grissom watched him, amused at how flustered he could make the man.

"So." Hodges began nervously. "How have you been? Are you managing with your leg like that? Is it better now that you're at home?"

"Slow down, I can't handle three questions all at once just now." Grissom advised him, relaxing as the painkillers began to kick in.

"I'm sorry." David apologized, embarrassed by his behavior. "I'm always like this when I get a bit anxious."

"I had already noticed that." Gil told him. "What is there to be anxious about? We're simply here to have a burger."

Hodges took a couple of deep breaths then looked at his boss. "I see you took the dressings off." He motioned to Grissom's face.

"I took a shower and didn't see much point in replacing them. The stitches aren't that noticeable as long as I keep the cap on." He looked up as the waitress came over.

"What can I get you, Gentlemen?" She asked, pen and order pad at the ready.

"David?" Grissom looked on as Hodges quickly read through the menu.

"Um… I'll have the cheeseburger and fries thanks."

"I'll have the same." Gil told the waitress. "Oh, and coffee." He added, noticing Hodges cup.

"How's everything at the lab?" He asked the younger man.

"Good. It's a bit slow at the moment. Since they closed the file on that councilman's son it's really just been your case and a string of break and enters in North Vegas."

"Are they getting anywhere with mine?" Gil asked, hoping to find out exactly what they were up to in the investigation.

"I haven't had any trace samples come my way for a couple of days now." Hodges told him. "And I don't think any of the other techs have had anything either."

"So what _are_ they doing?"

"I have no idea." Full of self-importance, Hodges relished the opportunity to advise Grissom of his team's activities. "They all had a meeting this morning with Detective Brass and Dr. Robbins but nobody had any files with them so I don't know what that was about."

The waitress returned and placed a cup in front of Grissom, filling it with fresh coffee then refilling Hodges cup.

"That must have been the meeting Sara left early for." Grissom said more to himself that his dinner guest.

"Yes, apparently she arrived with Detective Brass just before it started." Hodges informed him.

Grissom was quiet as their meals arrived; he had a sneaking suspicion what the meeting had been about. Hodges was half way through his burger before Gil looked up again.

"So, you and Sara, huh?" David tried, unsuccessfully, to make the question sound innocent.

"Let's get one thing straight right now." Grissom snarled. "I'm not here to give you anything to feed to the rest of the gossips! That subject is out of bounds, okay?"

"Sure, no problem." Hodges assured him quickly, knowing he had over-stepped the mark; he had been hoping to get the inside track on the matter but that was obviously not going to happen.

Grissom calmed quickly after Hodges rapid backpedaling and attempted to steer the conversation back to where he wanted it.

"So, what else is new at work?"

"Well, there was the memo from Conrad about you that came out tonight at the start of shift, but I guess you know about that already."

"What memo?" Grissom was fairly certain he knew what the memo contained.

"You mean no ones told you about it?"

"Hodges, just spit it out will you."

"He's suspended you."

"No surprise there, I'm afraid, Dave."

Only slightly discouraged, Hodges continued. "Oh, so I guess the rumor I heard probably wasn't true then."

Knowing his patience would snap if this continued for much longer, Grissom just glared at his dining companion.

"I heard that he won't let you come back without a psychiatric assessment." Hodges spoke in a rush.

Grissom smiled ruefully and nodded his head. Yep, that sounds like Conrad."

"So, it is true?" Unsurprised

"I have no idea, but knowing Ecklie, I'd say it probably is."

Hodges studied his boss as he pushed his untouched meal away.

"You aren't mad?"

"Not particularly." Gil informed him. "At this point I don't really care about the lab or the idiot that runs it."

"So what, you're just going to give up?"

"No, not at all." Gil was pleased the discussion was now on track. "In fact, I thought I could do some freelance work."

"What kind of freelance work?"

"The CSI kind."

"For who?" Hodges asked. "Defense lawyers? I thought you hated people that sold out like that?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of working for the victim." Grissom told him. "In fact, I already have my first client."

"Who is it? Do I know the case?"

"Yeah, you know it." Gil smiled. "Actually, I was hoping you'd be able to help me with one aspect of it."

David was excited; not only was he was finally getting first-hand information from Gil Grissom but his assistance was needed as well.

"If there's anything I can do, you just have to ask." He stated, eagerly.

"I was hoping you'd say that." Grissom reached into his pocket and pulled out the flash drive. "I'd like you to take this back to the lab with you."

"Why? What's on it?"

"There's nothing on it. It's brand new."

"So why are you giving it to me?"

"Because I want to you to get me copies of everything they've got on my case; reports, results, photographs, everything that's in the system. Oh, and while you're at it, I'll take the Lurie and Marlin cases as well."

"I can't do that!" Shocked at what he was being asked to do, David became agitated. "It's theft."

"All you're doing is copying some files and giving them to your supervisor, there's no theft involved."

"You've been suspended!"

"I just have your word on that." Gil told him. "For all I know you could be lying."

"Why would I do that?" When Grissom just shrugged, Hodges tried a different approach. "They'll know it was me."

"I've already thought of that." Grissom felt in his pocket for the slip of paper he had put there earlier. Finding it, he handed it across the table. "When the computer asks for the username, type in the word guest then use that code." He pointed to the paper David now held. "That's the administrator's password; it will make the entire system available to you. It can be done from any terminal in the lab; I'd suggest using the one in the garage. Just make sure no one sees you"

"I'm not going to do it!" Hodges was adamant.

"So much for anything to help." Gil commented sarcastically. "Look, there is absolutely no risk to you. Nothing can go wrong. You don't even have to take it out of the building; I'm going to get someone else to do that. I just need to review the files to make sure they're not missing something, that's all."

With no apparent risk to him, David's resolution weakened quickly. "You're sure it won't be traced to me?"

"The access logs are printed out once a week and nobody ever checks them." Grissom told him. "I'd be the only logical suspect anyway; there are only a few people in the department with that password and I'm one of them. I'm sure if Conrad ever became aware that the files had been accessed, I'd be at the top of his list of culprits not you."

"Well, if there's no risk to me, I suppose I could help you out." Hodges conceded.

"Just this one time though."

Gil smiled, it hadn't been quite as easy as he thought it would be but it hadn't exactly been hard either. "There's just one thing." He told the tech. "You can't do this and carry on like you did at the hospital. You'll have to act naturally otherwise someone's going to wonder what you're up to."

"Okay." Hodges nodded his head. "What do I do with it after I'm finished?"

"Print out a label addressed to me and mark it as personal, put the drive in an envelope and put it with my mail. Then give me a call to let me know it's ready. I'll phone Sara and have her bring it home with her."

"And you're sure this will work?"

"Yes, I'm positive." Grissom assured him. "Now, you'd better get back or you'll be late and the least attention you draw to yourself tonight the better."

* * *

Grissom noticed the car as soon as he turned into his street. He'd spent enough years working in law enforcement to recognize an unmarked police vehicle when he saw one. They were perfectly placed. From their position the view of the townhouse would be relatively clear but the landscaping at the front of the complex would offer them some concealment.

He turned into the driveway then carefully parked the Mercedes back in the garage. Entering the house, he threw his keys and phone on the table then made his way to the guest bedroom. Opening the closet he began his search. It took twenty minutes but he eventually found what he was looking for: Sara's scanner.

It never occurred to him that the car might have been there for his protection. There was only one reason that he could think of for the surveillance. First they'd wanted to keep him in the hospital and now they wanted to ensure he stayed in the townhouse. His suspicions had been correct; they didn't trust him anymore.

Taking the scanner through to the kitchen, he rummaged through the drawers looking for fresh batteries. Inserting them, he turned the device on and placed it on the counter. If they were going to go so far as to keep an eye on his movements, he'd return the favor.

TBC


	19. Chapter 21

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 19**

Jim Brass arrived back at the Las Vegas Crime Lab shortly after 2:15am and quickly made himself at home in the break room. Having missed his usual meal break back at PD, he'd stopped at an all-night deli on the way over and sat down at the large table to enjoy his roast beef on rye and soda. He was half way through it when Catherine and Nick entered, heading first for the coffee pot and then to join him at the table.

"Got something good for us, Jim?" Catherine asked as she sipped from her cup.

"I think it's pretty good." Brass stated confidently as he finished the last bite of his sandwich. He waited until both were comfortable seated before continuing.

"This afternoon, I spoke to George Anderson, the Lyon County sheriff. His office is actually in Yerington; Fernley is just a sub-station but he knows the town and people pretty well." He shook his head in disgust. "I'm fairly sure the man is just hanging in waiting for retirement, all he wanted to talk about was his fishing trip to Lake Tahoe. God, I hope someone puts me out of my misery if I ever end up like that."

"But eventually you managed to keep him on track." Catherine said, rolling her eyes at Nick.

Brass picked up on the sarcasm. "Um… yeah, sorry. He certainly knew of the Beck brothers. Anderson was surprised when I told him there were no records for them; he remembers both being suspects in a range of different crimes before they left town. When I pressed him though, he couldn't recollect them ever being charged with anything."

"So, they kept getting questioned but it never came to anything?" The skepticism in Nick's voice was clear. "That doesn't sound very likely."

"I agree. The crimes they were picked up for ranged from minor thefts to serious assault, and considering what we now know of their military records, the odds that they were innocent every time have got to be low. The only conclusion I can come up with is that they had someone in the Sheriff's Department looking out for them. Someone that has made either the evidence or the charge itself disappear."

"Did you suggest that to the sheriff?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah he didn't really appreciate it, he swears blind that none of his people could be involved, but he couldn't come up with any better suggestions. He's going to go back over his employment records to see if he can find any connection between the Becks and any members of his staff."

"You said earlier that he was going to email you something."

"He sent me what he could find on Jason and Kevin Beck." Jim told them as he consulted his notebook. "Both parents died over ten years ago in a car accident and there's no other family. No one could remember the brothers having many friends as they grew up either; the family lived in a rented house a fair bit out of town and pretty much kept to themselves. Anderson did see the older brother around town three or four months ago; that was the first time he'd come across either of them since they left the area a few years back."

"And there was nothing else?"

"He sent the only thing he came across that actually mentioned them." Brass took a swig from his soda can. "The class lists from their high school yearbooks."

"You're joking." Nick exclaimed. "How in hell is that supposed to help us?"

"That's what I thought when I first read the email but then something in one of the lists caught my attention." He smiled at both CSIs. "I'm going to call him back later today and have him courier the books down to us."

"Why? What did you find?" Catherine asked eagerly.

He slid a sheet of paper across the table to her. "Read that and tell me if anything stands out."

Catherine scanned the printout, then looked back up at Jim and returned his smile. "I think we just got our first real lead."

"That's what I thought too." Jim drained his can and got up to throw it in the bin.

"What is it, Cath?" Nick asked.

"Debbie Marlin's on this list."

* * *

"Why haven't we picked up on the connection before this?" Catherine queried, somewhat disturbed by the fact that they may have overlook an important link.

They were still sitting in the break room, but the table in front of them was now covered with the original Marlin murder files. All three of them were going back through the old documents.

"We just gave these a quick scan before, but I don't think it would have mattered much; I'm not seeing any mention of Fernley anywhere in here." Nick finished reading through one folder and then opened another.

"I haven't come across it either." Jim put the file he was going through down as his cell phone began to ring.

"We just checked them quickly to see if the name Beck came up during the original investigation." Nick said to Catherine as Brass continued with his call. "But it seems that as soon as Lurie was identified as the prime suspect, the background checks on Debbie Marlin stopped. That must be why we can't find anything."

Brass closed his phone and put it back in his pocket.

"That was one of the guys keeping an eye on the townhouse."

Catherine looked up quickly. "What's happened?"

"Nothing, Gil's fine." Jim assured her. "He was calling to let me know that while they've been sitting in the street watching the building Grissom's actually been out somewhere."

"What?"

"He drove past them, large as life and parked the Mercedes back in the garage. To make matters worse, they're think he's made them."

"And they have no idea where he went or what he was doing?"

"No, none. There was a hold up getting the okay for a 24 hour watch so they didn't get there until just before 2am. They assumed he was inside."

"So, what do we do now?" Nick asked.

"Just because those guys think he made them doesn't mean he actually did." Jim pointed out. "I think it might be best if Sara plays it by ear. If Gil brings it up she can decide how to handle it; she has to live with him after all."

"And what about this middle-of-the-night outing of his?" Catherine enquired as she continued reading.

"As much as I'd love to know what he was doing, it's not like the man's under house arrest, Catherine. He's on leave and if he chooses to drive around all night there's absolutely nothing we can do about it. It will be interesting to see whether he tells Sara or not though." Jim rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Look, I need a change of scenery for a while. How about we take a break and head over to the diner for half an hour? I'll even pay."

"You're on." Catherine said as she and Nick stood up to leave. "We can't pass that up, can we Nick?"

* * *

It must have been the fresh night air that did it; all of a sudden he was dead tired. With nothing more to do until Hodges called to tell him that the flash drive was ready and waiting, Grissom decided that lying down was probably his safest bet; the last thing he needed was to fall asleep at the table. Getting up, he turned off the scanner then, grabbing a bottle of water and his cell phone, headed to the couch.

Lying down carefully, Gil gazed up at the ceiling and wondered if he was actually doing the right thing. How sensible was it to try to do this himself? True, he might have an advantage to start with, getting copies of everything the team had gathered so far; but, after tonight, he probably wouldn't be able to access anything else from the lab. Hodges would only be good for one run at this and there was no one else gullible enough that he could coerce into helping him. He was also going to have to be very lucky; trying to run a parallel investigation without anyone else finding out wouldn't be easy.

Grissom didn't realize he'd dropped off to sleep until he was jarred awake by the ringing of his phone. He automatically looked at his wrist to check the time, forgetting that his watch was now in an evidence locker. With a quick glance at the caller ID, he was pleased to see it was finally the call he'd been waiting for. He pulled the phone open and put it to his ear.

"What time is it, Hodges?"

Put off his stride by the unexpected greeting, Hodges took a moment to answer.

"Um... it's almost 5:15." He waited for a response but when none came, he continued. "I've done it. I slipped the envelope into the pile of mail that's sitting in your 'in' tray."

"Thanks, I owe you one." Grissom said, already planning his call to Sara.

"Actually, I'd settle for never having to do anything like that again." The lab tech nervously told him. "I had to wait forever for everyone to go out. Catherine and Nick were with Captain Brass in the break room for hours; I thought they'd never leave. I was sure someone was going to come in and catch me."

Not really willing to deal with any more of the man's dramatics, Grissom let his off the hook. "Okay, you've done more than enough. I promise, David, I won't ask you for anything else."

Cutting off Hodges before he could begin rambling again, Grissom disconnected the call.

He had just closed his phone when he had a moment of almost blinding clarity. He'd just had a conversation with a man whom he'd always considered to be a walking, talking billboard for paranoid personality disorders... but wasn't that exactly what his own behavior over the past few days pointed to?

At least that might explain why some things weren't really making a lot of sense. He had been wondering why, after all these years, Catherine had decided that now was the best time to make a play for his job and what he'd done to turn everyone else against him. But maybe it wasn't a conspiracy after all. Maybe it was all in his head.

Seeing it clearly now, he almost laughed out loud at the absolute irrationality of it; first Catherine became the enemy, then Al Robbins and Brass were added and finally everyone else was tacked on the end for no other reason than guilt by association. Everyone, that is, except for Sara.

But even she hadn't been completely immune. He knew there were moments when he's suspected her of being part of it too; and that gave him greater cause for concern. He had to get this under control before any lasting damage was done.

Now that he knew what the problem actually was, and he was sure he did, he could take steps to contain it. After all, that's what he was already doing with his anger. As soon as he'd identified it as a potential problem, he'd taught himself to suppress it. He still felt it flare but he was becoming more and more adept at smothering it before it could get out of hand. If he kept it inside, no one could get hurt.

He'd use the same method with these ridiculous suspicions. Instead of acting on them straight away as he had been doing; if he could keep quiet until he thought it through, surely logic would prevail.

Grissom felt as though a weight had been lifted; if his mind could work clearly enough to self-diagnose paranoia then surely things couldn't be too bad. And if he could solve that riddle then there shouldn't be any reason why he couldn't solve his own case.

He had no doubt now that Catherine and the rest of the team were actually doing what they could with the case however he still felt compelled to continue with his plan; but first he had to get hold of that drive. That meant lying to Sara, which was something he didn't really want to do, but there was no way around it. Besides he also wanted her opinion on his discovery.

Grissom picked up his cell phone again and speed-dialed her number. Relaxing back against the couch, he waited for the call to connect.

* * *

Having gone through all the Marlin case files, Catherine, Nick and Jim were busy packing them away in their boxes again. The search had confirmed there was no mention of either Fernley or the Beck brothers in any of the notes.

"So, where do we go from here?" Nick asked as he closed the last carton.

"Until we hear back from George Anderson there's not really much we can do. At least we now know the link between the Becks and Debbie Marlin definitely starts in Fernley and with some luck the sheriff will turn up something in his staff records that points to an insider."

Catherine looked at the door as Sara and Greg entered. "Hey guys, how did your hit-and-run go?"

"We were just finishing up at the scene when we got a call that the driver had turned himself in, seems he couldn't live with his conscience." Greg told her as Sara got them both coffees. "The evidence we collected has all been logged but if he goes ahead and pleads guilty they probably won't need it anyway."

Nick kept his eyes on Sara as she placed Greg's cup on the table in front of him and took a seat herself.

"How's everyone been treating you?" He asked, knowing she had been nervous about her first shift back since the relationship became public knowledge.

"I got a few weird looks at the start of shift but it seems to have settled down now. It feels like it's been a really long night though."

Brass looked up as she yawned. "You heard anything from Grissom tonight, Sara?"

"No, nothing." She picked up her cup and took a sip. "Hopefully that means he's sleeping."

Bras and Catherine shared a look.

"Sorry to disappoint you but he's not." Jim smiled apologetically. "Or at least he wasn't a couple of hours ago."

"What's he done now?" Sara asked with a sigh.

"We don't know that he's done anything, but we do know he went out somewhere tonight?"

"Out?"

Jim nodded. "The guys watching your place think he spotted them. That's why I thought he might have... "

He was interrupted by Sara's phone. Pulling it from her pocket, she checked the display.

"Speak of the devil." She opened the phone. "Good morning, you're up early."

"Actually, I've been up for hours." Grissom was encouraged by her greeting; hopefully the normal tone of her voice meant the silent treatment had ended.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"I don't really want to get used to sleeping at night, it'll just make it harder when I'm ready to go back to work" He told her. "I am tired now though."

Sara decided not to mention anything about the suspension; that could be discussed when she got home. "So, what have you been doing?" She asked him.

"I spent some time catching up on research and I went out for a drive."

"You went out for a drive?" She echoed, looking across the table at Jim.

"I needed some fresh air." He paused for a second. "Honey, I need to ask you a question?"

"What kind of question?"

"Have I been acting strange over the past few days?"

The question took her by surprise. "Strange in what way?"

"Well... paranoid."

"Who have you been talking to?" She asked suspiciously.

"No one, I figured it out myself."

"You worked out that you're paranoid?"

Eyebrows went up around the table but Sara noticed Catherine was smiling.

"You never answered my question." Grissom stated.

Sara felt she had to be truthful. "The answer's yes."

"Good." She could hear the smile in his voice.

Sara laughed. "You must be the only person in the world that's happy to be told they've been acting paranoid."

"It was only a problem when I didn't know what was wrong." He explained to her. "Now that I'm aware of it, I can do something about it. And I worked it out myself; that's got to be a good sign."

"You're right, it is." Sara agreed, amazed at the sense of relief she was feeling. "Was there anything else or did you just call to ask me that?"

"I was going to ask you to bring my mail home; it should be on my desk."

"Okay." She looked at her watch. "Well, unless something new comes up here, I should be home around 8. I'll put your stuff in the car now so I don't forget it

"One last thing." He said. "Do you know anything about an unmarked police car sitting out in the street?"

Sara smiled at Brass. "Yeah, I was going to tell you about that after work. Jim thought it would be better to keep an eye on the place, just until this whole thing is over."

"I don't need babysitting, especially by the police department."

She heard the slight change in his tone of voice and attempted to explain the vehicle's presence. "I don't think they're there to baby-sit you; it's more of a precaution."

"I don't want them here, Sara. The only reason anybody got in here in the first place was because I opened the door for them; I'm not about to do that again in a hurry. Tell Brass to cancel the surveillance."

Fatigue was coming through in his voice as well as annoyance but, thankfully, not the anger she had been anticipating. Still, Sara knew arguing about it now would get her nowhere. "Could we discuss this when I get home please?"

"No." He was adamant. "I want that car gone as soon as possible. If you don't want to tell Brass to do it then I will."

"Alright." Given his mood swings lately; she half expected him to slam down the phone and breathed a sigh of relief when she found he was still on the line. "You win; I'll tell Jim to cancel the watch."

"Completely Sara, I don't want to find out that they've just parked a couple of yards further down the street."

"I'll make sure the car's gone." She promised him. "But you've got to do something for me too."

"Like what?"

"I need you to stay in bed and keep your leg up."

"I can do that while I sit on the couch. I don't have to be in bed."

"Yes, you do." Sara insisted. "There is a good reason for it but I don't want to go into it over the phone. Please, just trust me on this."

"Okay, if it'll make you happy, I'll go to bed." Grissom finally relented. "I need to get some sleep anyway."

Finishing up the call, Sara closed her phone and looked across the table at Brass.

"Better get rid of the car, Jim. He's just going to wind himself up if it stays there."

"I'm not happy about it, but I guess it was pretty naïve of us to expect he wouldn't notice." Jim picked up his cell. "Still, I thought we might have been able to get away with it for a _bit_ longer than an hour."

"It sounds like Grissom's making progress." Catherine said as Jim left the room to make his call. "It's good to see the brain's still working."

"Yeah, I guess that fresh air did him good. He didn't lose his temper either so that's another good sign." She smiled at the older woman. "He wants his mail; could you get that together for me? He said it would be in the office."

"There's a pile of it; I'll be glad to get it off the desk." Catherine stood up and left the room, returning within minutes with a plastic bag full of mail. She handed it to Sara.

"Wow, I never would have thought he got so much; no wonder he complains about paperwork keeping him out of the field." Sara exclaimed as she took the bag.

"And that's just his personal mail; I've removed everything that concerns the lab." Catherine handed an envelope to Sara. "I also took that out; it's the suspension notice from Ecklie. By rights, he should have handed it to Gil personally but he obviously doesn't have the nerve to do that so he just left it on the desk. I imagine it also lists the requirements for coming back to work."

"Thanks." Sara said as she placed the letter to one side. "I'll keep it in my case for now. He can have it once I've explained everything to him."

Jim reentered the room and addressed Catherine and Nick. "Grab your stuff. We're heading to the Aces High Motel on Swenson Street."

"What have you got?" Catherine asked as she stood.

"The desk clerk was flicking through the weekend papers before they were thrown out and recognized the photo of Kevin Beck that we released to the media. He and his brother checked in last Tuesday. Their vehicle was still parked in the lot so she decided to walk by the room to see if she could hear anything. She took one smell and called 911. The responding officers opened the door with the pass key and found a body. Apparently the room looks like an abattoir; there's blood everywhere."

"What were they driving, Jim?" Nick asked as he stood up.

"A white Ford Transit." Brass responded. "Officers at the scene say it's locked and empty."

"Do you need any help?" Greg asked hopefully as they were about to leave the room.

"Sure." Catherine told him. "Just be ready to leave in two minutes."

Greg stood and practically ran from the room to grab his kit. Catherine stood in the doorway for a moment longer then came to a quick decision.

"Sara, you might as well go now. Warrick's due back soon; if anything new comes in he can either handle it himself or hand it off to Days. There's no need for you to sit around here until shift ends. Go home and make sure Gil's doing as he's told."

"You sure?" Sara asked her.

"Positive." Catherine told her. "Now, I've got to go." She turned and hurried down the hallway in search of the others.

Sara looked around the now empty room and drained the last of her coffee. She picked up the bag containing Grissom's mail and headed to the locker room for the rest of her things.

Arriving at the townhouse, Sara juggled her house key with the bags of groceries she had picked up on the way home. Finally managing to get the front door open, she dumped the shopping on the kitchen counter and made her way back to the bedroom. Opening the door quietly she was pleased to see that Grissom had carried out her wishes; he was sound asleep on the bed with his leg propped up on pillows.

Deciding that he couldn't have been asleep for long, Sara revised her plan; rather than making breakfast for them both just now; she'd grab a quick shower and try to get some sleep herself. She returned to the kitchen and put the groceries away before taking the bag of mail with her back to the bedroom. Noticing Grissom had pulled the chair over to his side of the bed and placed the laptop on it, she left his mail beside the computer so it would be within easy reach when he woke.

After jumping in the shower and changing into one of Grissom's old t-shirts, she carefully slid into the bed. Trying not to jostle him, Sara moved in as close to his side as she dared and lay down, placing one hand softly on his chest. She was reassured when, moments later, he instinctively moved his own hand to cover hers.

She lay in the dark and listened to the soft breathing coming from the man beside her. She hoped desperately that they'd turned a corner; that this renewed self-awareness was a sign of recovery. Hopefully once this surgery was over with things would begin getting back to normal and he could have an uninterrupted recuperation.

They just had to get through the next two days.

TBC


	20. Chapter 22

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 20**

Catherine stood in the doorway of room 18 of the Aces High Motel and stared at the scene in front of her. What had once been a fairly generic-looking room, as found in thousands of lower-priced motels around the country, now looked as though it belonged in a Tarantino film.

Blood covered almost every surface. The bed, carpet and furniture seemed to have been painted a uniform red, whilst the walls and ceiling had escaped with more of a dappled effect. Over in the far corner, Catherine could just make out the huddled form of what, she assumed, had once been the occupant of the room. She stepped back outside, away from the door, to allow Nick and Greg to get their first glimpse inside.

Noticing Jim Brass trying to look in the darkened windows of the white van parked in the motel's lot, she headed over to join him.

"See anything, Jim?"

"Nah, the tint's too dark." He replied as he moved back. "This might interest you though."

He led her around to the passenger side and pointed to several smeared marks on the paintwork of the vehicle. Catherine leaned in closer to get a better look.

"Could be blood." She said as she examined the area. "You think it might be Gil's?"

"Well, he did say that they tied him to the roof rack when they first got to the mineshaft. And he would have been bleeding from the head at the time."

Brass looked on as Catherine opened her kit and moistened a swab before rubbing it over one of the marks then applying phenolphthalein to it. They both watched the swab turn pink. "Positive for blood." Catherine commented. "Looks like you may be right."

She turned, hearing Nick and Greg exit the room and walk towards her.

"What did you think?" Catherine asked them as they drew near.

"Man, he's ripe! Even with the air conditioning on in there." Nick said as they both came to a halt in front of her. "There's probably three of four hours work ahead of us in that room."

"Well, how about we get started." Catherine said. "Nick, you begin with the photos; at the moment there's not a lot more we can do until the body's cleared by David." She watched as he nodded and headed back to the room. "Greg, I want you to handle the van. There's some blood smears on the side that may be Grissom's. Swab them, take lots of photos, check for prints then arrange to have it towed back to the lab; we'll deal with the interior there."

"You got it, Cath." The youngest CSI lowered his kit to the ground, removed his camera and prepared to get to work.

Catherine and Brass turned towards the building once more. "You looked inside yet, Jim?"

"I glanced in before you arrived." He told her. "They weren't exaggerating when they said it was an abattoir, were they?"

"No, they weren't." She picked up her case and they began walking to the room. "That's a lot of blood just to have come from one person. I've been wondering if this is where Jason Beck died as well. I can't really imagine a shotgun going off and nobody hearing it though."

"Look around you, Catherine, this isn't exactly the Mirage. It's so far off the tourist trail I'll bet that most of their money is made renting rooms by the hour. If anybody did hear it; they were probably the type that wouldn't want cops sniffing around anyway."

"Your right." Catherine said as she rubbed the bridge of her nose, a headache starting to make its presence felt. "You know, just once in this damn case I'd like things to go our way. We keep getting all these little bits but it's never enough to make a difference." She shook her head ruefully. "All I really want is to be able to tell Gil that we've solved it."

"We'll get there." Brass assured her. "You know how it works; all those little pieces will eventually point us in the right direction. We already have a link between Debbie Marlin and the Beck's. Sooner or later, we'll uncover the rest of it. We are going to get him, Cath!"

"I know, Jim. I think I'm just tired; it feels like we've been at this a lot longer than a week." She turned to face the motel room's door. "Well, we're not going to get any further if we don't get this room processed."

Jim smile, pleased that his little pep talk had done the trick. "While you get busy in there, I'll go and have a word with the desk clerk. Maybe, if we're lucky, she got a look at our mystery man."

* * *

David Phillips estimated that the victim had been dead for over 72 hours; for a more precise TOD they'd have to wait for the autopsy, but the smell of the room certainly backed him up. Catherine had sent Greg home as soon as he had processed the exterior of the van and arranged for it to be towed, leaving her and Nick to work the room alone. Although they were seasoned crime scene investigators, the combination of a decomposing body, a small motel room and a warm Vegas morning, had caused both of them to head outside for fresh air on a regular basis.

They had swabbed everything it was possible to swab, hoping that among the dozens of samples they'd be lucky enough to come across some trace of the killer. Prints, hairs and fibers had also been collected but they were less optimistic about those; in a run down off-strip motel like this, it was unlikely that good housekeeping was a priority.

"You know, with blood spread all over the place like this, it must have been a pretty violent struggle that went on here." Nick commented as he checked the drains in the tiny bathroom. "Why didn't somebody hear it?"

Catherine chuckled. "I said something similar to Brass just after we got here; it's his opinion that the usual clientele might not be the types who want to see a police cruiser pulling up." She looked around the floor once more then turned to face Nick. "You do realize we're going to end up taking this carpet back with us, don't you?"

"I was afraid you were going to say that." Nick stood in the bathroom doorway and looked down at the floor covering. "You want me to phone and arrange the truck?"

"Might as well, at least then none of this stuff has to come back in the car with us. The less time spent with this smell the better."

"Come on, let's get some air." Nick gestured towards the door and then followed her outside. "I'm going to grab some water from the car, you want some?"

"I'd love one and could you grab me a couple of Tylenol while you're there?" She sat on the ground against the wall of the building, closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Hearing footsteps approaching, she looked up expecting it to be Nick and was surprised to see Jim Brass in front of her.

"You alright, Cath?" He asked, concerned at seeing her like this.

"I'm fine, Jim, just enjoying the fresh air." She offered him a smile. "I haven't seen you for a while; I thought you must have left."

"I was taking the clerk's statement." Brass noticed Nick returning from the Denali and waited until he was closer before continuing. "She only saw the two brothers up close but she did notice a second vehicle outside the room twice; once on Wednesday and then again on Thursday. According to her the driver was male, she guesses around mid-thirties. Unfortunately, she only saw him from a distance and didn't think to get a look at the tags on his vehicle."

"What was he driving, Jim?" Nick handed two Tylenol and a bottle of water to Catherine then opened his own.

"Nissan Pathfinder, just like you said." He told Nick. "Dark red, maybe burgundy."

Nick grinned, pleased that all his research had paid off. He leaned against the wall and took a long drink from the bottle. Brass looked on as Catherine pulled her sunglasses from her vest pocket and put them on. "Are you going to be much longer here?"

"We've pretty much done what we can." Catherine responded. "We'll go back in and pull up the carpet then, as soon as the truck gets here, we'll load everything up and take it back to the lab."

"You're taking the entire carpet with you?"

"Like Nick said; it was a violent struggle. I'm hoping our vic wasn't the only one to bleed in that room." She drained her water bottle. "Besides, if the first brother _was_ shot in there; that carpet's probably going to be our best chance of finding evidence of it."

"Better you than me." Jim commented as he donned his own sunglasses. "I'm going to head off; the uniforms will stick around until you leave. Think I'll go and run search; see how many dark red Pathfinders I can came across. I'll see you both tonight."

"See you, Jim." Catherine stood and tossed her empty bottle in a nearby trashcan. "Come on Nick, the sooner that carpet's up the sooner we get to leave too." After taking a few more deep breaths of clean air, both CSIs headed back to work.

* * *

Catherine Willows was now certain she knew why Grissom sometimes seemed to live at work; he simply never got the opportunity to go home.

After spending most of the morning working the Beck's motel room, she had sent Nick home to get some rest while she supervised the loading of the truck, then followed it back to the lab. By the time she had logged everything in, completed the preliminary paperwork and ensured that the Ford van had arrived and was secured in the garage; there was barely three hours before the next shift was due to start.

Catherine headed to the break room, desperate for a cup of coffee. Sitting alone in the room she wondered if she should ask Ecklie for help. God knows, they'd helped out the other shifts often enough when understaffing became an issue for them; surely it was time the favor was returned. With Grissom going back in to hospital, she didn't really want to pressure Sara too much; if she needed to take time off over the next week or so then Catherine wanted to be able to accommodate it. Conrad might have been a complete ass when it came to his handling of Grissom lately, but one thing was true: he was a much better administrator than he had ever been a CSI; even he would have to agree that Graveyard could not carry on without help.

She rinsed her cup and walked back to Grissom's office to tidy up before leaving. It was as she was clearing the desk that she caught sight of the time and realized there was no point in even trying to go home; by the time she got there, she'd just have time for a quick shower and have to head back again. Sighing, she picked up the phone. After a quick, apologetic call home, she set the alarm on her cell, locked the office door and closed the blinds. Settling on the couch, Catherine closed her eyes and made up her mind: she was definitely having a word with Ecklie first thing in the morning.

TBC


	21. Chapter 23

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 21**

Sara searched through the pile of magazines in the surgical waiting room for what felt like the hundredth time. True, it might have been just over a week ago since she'd last been here but surely they had to rotate these damn books every so often. She gave up and went back to her seat. She'd now been waiting for over two hours.

She hadn't arrived at the hospital until 8:30am. With Days and Swing both agreeing to lend one of their team members to Grave for the time being; Catherine had offered her the night off but Sara couldn't see the point in taking the time if she was just going to spend it alone at home. Instead, she was off tonight; Dr. Morgan had decided that trying to keep Grissom in for a second night was just asking for trouble and had promised to release him later this evening provided everything went to plan.

Sara closed her eyes and thought back over the last two days. She'd thought she'd have difficulty keeping him in bed but she needn't have worried. If it meant getting that surgery sooner, Grissom would have gone along with anything. In fact, he'd spent most of the time with the laptop on the bed beside him. She had no idea what it was he was working on; she was just grateful that it was keeping him occupied.

She hadn't worried when she left for work that he would be up and about as soon as she was out the door. The lessening of the swelling in his leg was proof enough that he never went further than the bathroom. He had the laptop and television for entertainment and she set him up with drinks and food before leaving.

With Grissom laid up in the bedroom, Sara found most of her time at home was spent in there as well. There was no point in sitting alone in one part of the townhouse when she could be sitting with him and, as a result, they had probably spoken more to each other over the past two days than they had in the past two months.

They had discussed his suspension and what may happen when he returned to the lab; although Sara had left out any mention of Ecklie's conditions. She had tentatively questioned him about his continued refusal to see anyone and he had asked how she felt about selling the townhouse and moving to a new area.

The down side of spending so much time together was that Sara had found herself developing his new sleep regime. A maximum of three hours sleep at a time may work for Grissom but it was beginning to take a toll on her. And then there were the nightmares.

It was late morning on the first day of his enforced bed rest that Sara discovered one of the reasons he was spending so much time awake.

Grissom had dozed off and, deciding to take advantage of the fact, Sara had quickly joined him. Lying on her side, head cradled in the hollow of his shoulder; they had been asleep for less than half an hour when she felt the arm he had slung around her begin to tighten and his hand gripped her wrist. Waking quickly and hearing his labored breathing, she initially thought he was in pain but when she looked up and saw that he was still asleep, his face drenched in sweat; she guessed what the problem was. Unable to break the painful grasp Grissom had on her arm, there had been no choice other than to wake him. He had shot back to consciousness with a gasp then lay still, struggling to control his breathing while Sara fetched a wet towel from the bathroom to wipe him down.

Grissom was mortified when he saw the red marks on her arm, guessing correctly where they'd come from and promising profusely that it would never happen again.

It was the one thing he refused to discuss during their talks; shutting down anytime she brought up the subject. There had been two others since but, true to his word, he had never again hurt her during the course of one.

They had both been relieved when Morgan decided to go ahead with the surgery. After spending most of the day either being examined or getting scans, Grissom probably would have exploded if it had been put off. After getting settled in a private room at 4pm, he'd demanded that Sara leave in order to get some rest before shift started. When she'd finally agreed, and backed out off the room, loathe to leave him, she realized it was probably the first time in over a week that he had looked truly happy.

Hearing the sound of people entering the waiting room she opened her eyes to find six familiar figures standing in front of her. Looking somewhat sheepish; Jim, Catherine and Al Robbins stood in front with Nick, Warrick and Nick close far behind.

"Hey guys, what are you doing here?" Sara gestured to the seats around her and watched as they all sat down.

"We know Gil won't want to see us today, Sara, but none of us felt right about leaving you here to wait alone." Catherine explained to the younger woman.

"Besides," Warrick added. "If it was one of us in that operating room, Griss would be out here himself until he knew everything was alright."

"Never mind all that, my one and only patient is in there." Doc Robbins joked. "I have every right to be here." He smiled at Sara. "Any word yet?"

"No, I spoke to one of the nurses when I got here and she said they started at 7 and were expecting it to take about four hours." She looked at her watch. "It's 10:30 now so, hopefully, they shouldn't be much longer."

"Anyone want anything from the vending machine?" Greg asked as he felt in his pocket for change.

"I'd kill for a cold drink, Greg." Sara told him as she reached into her pocket for some change.

"My treat." Greg assured her. "What kind do you want?"

"Soda would be fine. Thanks." She watched him saunter down the corridor before turning to Catherine. "Did your results come back, Cath?"

"Wendy's still running them but at least we now know that both brothers bled in that room. Kevin Beck was killed with a shotgun and the injuries to Jason are consistent with being beaten, we think, probably with the same gun. There were a couple of bloodstains on the carpet and one of the walls that don't belong to either of the Beck's. We haven't had any hits in CODIS but that seems to be par for the course with these boys. Well keep trying but at least it looks like we'll have a DNA profile to compare our killer with when we get him."

"What about the van?"

"The blood, both inside and out, was Gil's. The only prints we got from the vehicle belonged to the brothers." She turned to include Brass in the conversation. "Any luck with the SUV, Jim?"

"Not yet. There are more red Pathfinders in Nevada than I expected but we'll run them all down and check them out. I've also got someone cross-checking them with the lists that George Anderson sent down. If we don't get anything, I'll move onto vehicles registered in neighboring states; I'm damn well going to find this car."

"Thanks guys, I know you're doing everything you can." Suddenly, her hand shot up to smother a yawn. "Sorry."

"Are we keeping you up, Sara?" Al asked, his amusement showing clearly on his face. They all turned to the door as Greg reentered the waiting room, crossing quickly to hand Sara an ice-cold can before sitting down.

"Thanks Greg." She opened it and took a drink before answering Robbins question.

"Do you know how hard it is to get any rest when the person sharing the bed rarely seems to sleeps and isn't allowed to get up?" Sara took another mouthful of soda. "And now when he does sleep he has nightmares."

"Well, I guess that's not surprising." Robbins told her. "I'm sure I would have them too if I went through that."

"He won't talk about them." She unconsciously tugged down the sleeve of her top. "He just says he's fine and then pretends to go back to sleep."

"You have a spare room, don't you?" Nick asked, trying to be helpful. "Or how about sleeping on the couch?"

"I don't think that wouldn't work." Sara pointed out. "I'd just lie awake and worry if I wasn't in the same room."

"Hey, it's your birthday next week isn't it?" Greg asked her, seemingly out of the blue.

"Yeah." She answered, realizing that she'd actually forgotten. "It's on Monday."

"I've been trying to come up with a way to get Grissom to see us all again and I thought that if we took you out for breakfast after shift, he'd have to come too, wouldn't he? I mean, it would be _your_ birthday meal."

Seeing Sara doubtful expression, Catherine jumped in to champion Greg's plan.

"That's a great idea!" She exclaimed. "It would be on neutral ground so he shouldn't feel cornered and no one would pressure him about anything. What do you think, Sara?"

"I think his doctors have just come out of surgery." She stood up quickly and moved towards the door, pleased to see both surgeons smiling as they walked down the corridor towards her.

"Everything's fine, Sara." Dr. Morgan assured her. "He's back in one piece. They'll be bringing him out shortly."

Sara heard movement behind her and turned to find Al Robbins standing beside her. "Hey Gary, how's my patient?"

"He's doing great." The two men shook hands then Morgan introduces his colleague. "Al, this is Eva Kovak, she handled the eye socket reconstruction. Eva, meet Al Robbins, Las Vegas coroner and our patient's doctor." Receiving a puzzled look, Morgan clarified further. "Al was the one who diagnosed the PCS."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." She shook hands with Al before turning to speak to Sara. "Everything went smoothly; it was really a textbook zygomatic fracture. I made three small incisions, one at the side of his eye, one just in the hairline and one inside his mouth above the gumline, and then we removed the bone fragments and inserted the micro-plates. Once the stitches are out and the bruising disappears no one will ever know anything was wrong. The other sutures and staples have been removed and everything's seems to be healing perfectly."

"Eva's done a great job, Sara, first class work." Morgan told her as the other surgeon headed back towards the OR. "Can we talk here in front of your friends or would you like to go somewhere private?"

"Here's fine. They're more like family than friends anyway."

"Let's take a seat then." Morgan ushered Sara back to her seat before taking the one opposite. He waited for Al to take the seat beside Sara before starting.

"The leg is fine. It took two plates and twelve screws to put it all together but everything's as it should be. He's going to be in plaster up to the knee and he cannot put _any_ weight on that leg for at least eight weeks. After that it will depend on how much healing has occurred. We'll get him in for x-rays in a week just to make sure everything's fine. The broken femur is looking good although I would be happier if he'd keep the fracture brace on for a couple more weeks; I don't suppose there's much hope of that happening though."

Morgan took a breath and surveyed the people around him, all listening intently.

"The MRI showed lesions on the frontal lobe of his brain." Seeing the fear his words had produced he hurried to reassure them. "It's alright. That's actually what we wanted to see; it's really nothing more than bruising. It will all disappear in time. That along with his behavior last night pretty much backs up Al's diagnosis."

"What happened?" Robbins asked.

"He was acting fairly normally to start with and, to tell you the truth, I was beginning to think you'd made a mistake. I made the decision to go ahead with the surgery so we admitted him and started running the usual tests. That's about when you left wasn't it, Sara?" At her nod, he continued. "After a while he became tired and frustrated and, pretty much, stopped cooperating. By that time both Dr. Kovak and I had finished what we wanted to do anyway so we left him alone to get some rest. Unfortunately, not long after that Dr. Sullivan came down to examine the chest burn."

"What did he do?" Sara was almost afraid to ask.

"According to the nurse who was in the room at the time, the minute Sullivan and his assistant entered and Grissom got a look at them, he got angry. He wouldn't let either of them near him and was threatening to discharge himself and leave the hospital. Eventually they called me and we managed to get him calmed down but there was moment when I thought I was going to have to get you to come back in. What I didn't know at the time was that Grissom woke up while they were performing the initial debridement, which probably explains why he went off at Sullivan in the first place. It also didn't help things when then told him that the wound is becoming infected and he had to go back on IV antibiotics."

"Does that mean you won't be discharging him this afternoon?" Sara asked, dreading the answer.

"No, he should be fine to go home." Morgan told her. "He'll be put on another course of antibiotics and there's also an antibiotic cream that we'll show both of you how to apply. Apart from that it's just a matter of changing the dressings."

"What about skin grafts?" Robbins enquired.

"Grissom is refusing to have anything more to do with the burns team. He's rejected grafts and dermabrasion and insists he just wants the wound to heal itself." Morgan shrugged his shoulders. "He won't discuss it with me at all; in fact, he's been pretty quiet ever since that happened. The nurses said he was awake every time they checked on him during the night and he barely spoke this morning before surgery. Maybe one of you will have more luck getting him to talk about it."

"I doubt it." Sara told him truthfully. "Once he shuts down that's pretty much it. I'm afraid that if we push him on something just now it will set him off."

"I can understand that." Morgan said. "I didn't want to upset him further by having Neurology examine him but I did have them check the MRI and told them what's been going on. They say it's all pretty consistent with Post-Concussion Syndrome. Grissom's already trying to control his behavior which is good, and he'll get better at that as time goes on, but they suggested that the best thing all of you can do is learn what his triggers are; frustration and fatigue are common ones. If he gets tired, frustrated or stressed it probably isn't going to take much to push him over the edge so, when you see that happening the best thing you can do is to leave him alone."

Morgan looked at the clock and stood up to leave.

"I think that's about it for now." He shook hands with Al then turned back to Sara. "I'll drop by the room in a couple of hours to see how he's doing and discuss the PCS with him but I can't see there being any reason why he can't be discharged later this afternoon. I'll go back now and make sure everything's set then they can take him back to his room."

To a chorus of thanks, the surgeon left the waiting room and returned to the OR area.

Sara sat back down and took a deep breath. "Well, at least we know for sure now."

"It'll be fine, Sara." Al tried to reassure her. "The worst is over. Now, that the surgery is done; things can begin to settle down again."

Everyone looked up as the doors to the surgical suite were pushed open and a gurney appeared. The two nurses who were guiding it pulled it to a stop just outside the waiting room door.

"Ms. Sidle?"

Sara stood and hurried towards them. Coming to the side of the gurney she could see Grissom was groggy, but awake. Reaching for his hand she was pleased to feel her grip returned. She smiled down at him.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I just got hit in the face with a baseball bat?"

Sara was pleased to see the dent below his eye was now gone. The bruising was still quite extensive but at least now everything looked relatively normal. The two incisions she could see were less than an inch long and, as promised, would hardly be noticed in a few months time.

"It looks better though." She told him. "Especially now that the other stitches and staples are gone. How about your leg?"

"I can't feel it just now. I'm just glad that metal's finally gone."

Sara heard footsteps coming down the corridor and looked up quickly to see a uniformed officer walking towards the waiting room door. She saw him gesture to Brass then watched as Jim left the waiting room to speak to him.

"We're going to take Dr. Grissom back to his room." One of the nurses told her. "Do you want to come along with us?"

"Yes, definitely." Sara told her. She turned and addressed the team. "I'll come back in about ten minutes and let you know what's happening. Is that alright?"

With everyone's agreement, Sara followed along behind the gurney. After getting a now dozing Grissom comfortably back in bed, both nurses departed, leaving Sara sitting at the side of the bed watching as he slept. A few minutes later, she hearing a quiet knock on the door, she rose to answer it, finding a worried-looking Jim Brass standing on the other side.

"Sorry Sara." Jim told her quietly. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to have to leave. Dispatch has been trying to call me for the past hour."

"What's happened?"

"One of my neighbors noticed the front door of my house was wide open and, knowing I was at work, phoned it in. When a patrol car arrived they noticed flames and called the fire department."

"God, Jim." Sara exclaimed. "Your house was on fire?"

Yeah. They managed to put it out but apparently there's a lot of damage. I'll have to go round there and see what I can save."

"Do they think it was deliberately lit?"

"The door had been forced and they could smell gas when they went in, so, yeah it was deliberate."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Sara offered.

"No, you've got enough on here. Catherine and Nick have volunteered to come with me anyway, just in case it's related to the case."

"It would be a bit of a coincidence, wouldn't it? Well, what are you going to do? You can't stay there."

"Oh, I'll get a room in a hotel somewhere for tonight. That'll do until I know what's happening with the house."

"Sara?" Both started at the unexpected voice coming from within the room. Sara turned to look at the bed.

"I thought you were asleep."

"I need you to go over to the lab and get my spare keys from my desk then give them to Jim; he's staying with us."

Brass, not wanting to enter the room fully, stuck his head around the door. "No, Gil. Thanks for the offer but you don't need me there. I'll be fine."

"Jim." Grissom's voice, though still groggy, was determined. "You're not staying at a motel. There's plenty of room at the townhouse so you're moving in with us for now."

"Are you sure? You haven't really wanted any company lately."

"I'm not discussing this any further; I need to sleep." Grissom told him firmly. "Go salvage what you can; if you need room for storage, park my car in the driveway and use the garage. I intend being home tonight and I expect to see you there."

Grissom closed his eyes, cutting off the chance for further discussion. Sara, smiling, stepped out into the corridor and closed the door.

"I guess you don't have any choice."

"I guess not." Jim said as they walked back towards the others.

"I'll give you my keys now then drive over to the lab and pick up the spare set when I know he's really asleep."

"Thanks, Sara. This means a lot."

"Don't thank me. I'm not the one that insisted you stay with us."

"Yeah, I certainly wasn't expecting him to do that."

"Neither was I, he surprised me too." She smiled across at Jim. "Maybe Doc Robbins was right; maybe the worst is over." She suddenly remembered why Jim had come to the room in the first place. "I'm sorry, Jim, I was forgetting about your house."

"Well, it needed renovating anyway and, this way, the insurance company gets to pay for it." Jim said as they neared the door to the waiting room.

"Bit of an extreme way of going about it, though." Sara pointed out.

"Perhaps, but you know what? If this is what it takes to start bringing Gil back; maybe it'll all be worth it in the end."

TBC


	22. Chapter 24

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 22**

Sitting at the desk in Grissom's office, Catherine's attention was drawn from the paperwork in front of her as Jim Brass announced his arrival by tapping on the doorframe.

"Hey Cath, you got a minute?"

"I've got as many as you want." Catherine told him. "Anything to get away from this stuff." She gestured to the files piling up on the desk.

"Now you know why Gil avoids it like the plague." Jim took a seat in one of the visitor's chairs by the desk. He held out the two books he had brought with him.

"Fernley High School yearbooks; courtesy of George Anderson."

Catherine grabbed one of the books and quickly began flicking through it. "Helpful?"

"Not really." Jim reached over and picked up the second book. "It seems our boys weren't the most sociable of students; neither of them was into sports or any of the usual clubs and groups associated with high school. They barely rate a mention and the only photos of them are the official ones. However, there are plenty of pictures of Debbie Marlin." He offered Catherine his book, opened to a particular page. "It seems she was a _very_ popular girl at Fernley High."

"Well, she was a _very_ popular girl at Desert Palm Hospital too." Catherine took the proffered yearbook and studied the photographs. "Are we talking about the same kind of popular though?"

"I asked Anderson the same thing. According to him, the Marlin family was only in town for a year or two but that was long enough for Debbie to get quite a reputation. He didn't know if it was true or not but, apparently, she was "friends" with just about every boy in school while she was there."

"She never really changed then, did she?" Catherine picked up her coffee cup and frowned when she found it empty. "Did Sheriff Anderson have any luck with his personnel files?"

"He says he's been right through them and he's positive his people are clean. I can't really push the issue; he'll end up taking offense and stop cooperating. And, at this point, I'd rather not have to take a trip up there myself if it can be avoided."

Catherine stood up, cup in hand. "Want to come and get a coffee?"

"Sure." Jim stood and followed Catherine out to the break room, waiting while she filled two cups and carried them to the table.

"How's it going with the house?" She asked as she took a sip.

"It's a bigger mess than when you saw it on Friday." Jim shook his head. "The fire itself was confined to the kitchen and lounge room but almost everything else has been damaged by either water or smoke. I'm meeting a guy from the insurance company there at 11 o'clock; we'll see how they want to handle it."

"Well, we got the arson investigator's report." Catherine told him. "There's no surprises. The accelerant was gas; whoever it was splashed it around then lit it and ran. We know the front door was forced but we've got no prints and none of the neighbors remember seeing any strange vehicles in the area at the time."

"We are working on the assumption that it was the same guy that went after Grissom though, aren't we?"

"Oh, yeah." Catherine assured him. "I'm not that big a believer in coincidences."

They sat in silence for a few moments before Catherine spoke again.

"So, how are the new living arrangements?"

"Better than I expected actually." Brass told her. "I thought Gil might have problems having me there, even though it was him that pretty much demanded I stay with them, but it hasn't been too bad. He spends a lot of time in the bedroom doing God knows what on his laptop but he does try to be sociable now and then. He's getting around a lot better now that he's in a cast; Sara brought him over to the house to see the damage yesterday and the way he was poking through the ashes and checking out where the door was forced you can see the real Grissom's in there somewhere."

"Do you think he'll come to this breakfast of Greg's?"

"I'm pretty sure he'll do it for Sara's sake. I reminded him about it before I left for work and he said he'd be there."

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen Sara so nervous about something." Catherine commented.

"She really wants this to go well and I hope, for her sake, it does. She's worried that maybe it's a little bit too soon for Gil." He shrugged. "I don't know, maybe reconnecting with people one or two at a time would be better for him to start with but I guess we'll just see how things go. I did ask him to try and get some sleep tonight so, if he manages that, it should make things easier."

"Is he still having problems with that?"

"He'll grab a couple of hours during the day if he's alone in the bedroom but, Sara says that if she's there with him, as soon as he thinks she's asleep, he'll either move right over to the edge of the bed and lie there awake or get up again. I don't know whether he's actually having trouble getting to sleep or if it's the nightmares he's been having but, one thing's for sure, when he's overtired he's that much more likely to lose control."

"So, how do you suggest we handle this breakfast?" Catherine asked. "I mean it's really the first time we've all been together, not only since he was injured but also since their relationship was made public."

"I think we have to try and be as normal as possible; that's probably what Gil needs more than anything. Don't make a fuss of him and don't try to help him unless he asks for it." He thought for a moment. "It might also be wise to remind the guys that now is not the time for a lot of questions; that's just going to piss him off and we all saw what happened last time."

Catherine stood and carried both coffee cups over to the sink. "I'll make sure they know."

"Cath?" He waited until she turned back to face him. "I know I probably don't have to say this but, please, don't wind him up again."

He had expected anger or denial and was surprised when Catherine just graced him with a small smile.

"I know I was the one in the wrong then, Jim. I was the only person in that argument with any control and I chose not to exercise it. It was stupid and childish and just made everything worse. That's one of the reasons I want to make sure this get-together goes well. What Sara said at the hospital was true, we are more family than friends; and for Gil's sake it's time this family all pulled together."

* * *

Grissom swore softly under his breath as his phone rang yet again. He didn't need to check the screen to know who it was. Sara's first night back at the lab since his surgery and so far she'd called to check on him four times. Feeling down by his side, he located his cell and flipped it open.

"Hello again, Sara." He tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice, but couldn't quite pull it off.

"Are you getting sick of me calling?"

Hearing the wariness in her voice, he smothered his irritation. "No, not at all. I appreciate the concern but I am beginning to think you don't trust me."

"It's not that." She hurried to assure him. "I just got used to being there in case you needed something and... I worry."

"You do know there's nothing to worry about, don't you?"

"That doesn't seem to stop me." When he didn't comment, she continued. "I was wondering if you wanted me to swing by and pick you up after work; we could go to this breakfast together?"

"There's no point in you coming home just to get me. I'm perfectly capable of driving myself there."

"I just thought you might prefer it if you didn't arrive alone. You do remember where it is, don't you?"

"Courtyard Café, just off Summerlin Parkway; you told me at least half a dozen times yesterday and Jim made a point of telling me again before he left for work. I thought it was me that was supposed to get uptight about this meal, not you."

"I just want everything to go smoothly."

"Sara, everything will be fine, I promise. It's your birthday; I certainly don't want to spoil it for you."

"So, you'll be there at 8:00?"

"Definitely." He promised. "I'll see you then."

Closing the phone, he looked down at his new watch, noting that it was just after 6am, and knew that if he was going to make it on time; he'd have to start moving soon.

He'd had a productive night.

Almost as soon as Sara had left for the lab, he'd had the laptop out and set up on the table. After logging on to his lab account; he'd sent off emails to, what he considered to be, the most likely companies to have manufactured the branding iron that had been used on him. Attaching a cropped image of the burn on his chest, he asked that all replies be sent to his personal email address as he would be out of the office but still needed whatever information they could give him.

After completing that task, he opened a Gmail account and then set up a redirection from his private account into the new one. Although access to the laptop was now only available via a series of passwords; he still wanted to ensure that should anyone manage to get into the computer they would have a hard time finding out what it was he was doing.

Knowing that the odds of receiving any replies on a Sunday night were extremely slim, Grissom logged off and opened the file containing the crime scene photographs. Although he had already seen some of the images back at the lab, he had been putting this off for days, concerned about his reaction and not really wanting either Sara or Jim around for it but, as it turned out, he needn't have worried; he felt nothing at all.

Setting them to run as a slideshow; he'd watched as it looped over and over again. Grissom stared at pictures of himself; unconscious at the bottom of the shaft, strapped securely in the litter at the surface and, later, at the hospital and none of it seemed real. There was no connection; he might as well have been looking at a stranger.

Switching to the photographs of the scene itself, he'd found the same problem. He couldn't get a feel for the place. Even with Nick's digitized sketches of the site, he couldn't get the scale right in his head.

Giving up, he opened the files that the Montana police had sent down detailing Vincent Lurie's death. Grissom was pleased to discover that although the doctor may not have been charged with the murders of Debbie Marlin and Michael Clark, the damage to his reputation had been such that he'd not been able to escape it. The distinguished surgeon from Desert Palm had ended his days doing locum work wherever he could find it; according to the background information in the file, no hospital in the country had been willing to have him permanently on staff.

With the ever-present headache beginning to worsen thanks to the glare from the screen, Grissom shut down the laptop and packed it away for the night, making sure he returned the flash drive to his pocket for safe-keeping. Needing both fresh air and a present for Sara, he decided to take a drive into town.

One of the advantages of living in a city that was, essentially, open 24 hours a day was that middle of the night birthday shopping was possible. Ninety minutes later, Grissom had emerged from the Venetian with a gift-wrapped present, a new watch for himself and a massive dent in his credit card. It was as he was getting back in the car that he decided to drive a little further than originally planned.

That had been over six hours ago.

Looking out at the desert, Gil was surprised by the beauty of the area. It was certainly nothing like his nightmares. The place he saw in his dreams was a harsh, barren wasteland, surrounded by darkness. He had intended coming out here to take a quick look around and then head straight back home. Instead, he'd been here half the night.

It had taken over thirty minutes to pull the corrugated metal cover off the mineshaft's entrance. As he'd sat at the top and shone his flashlight down into the mouth, he'd expected to feel fear; instead, he'd been filled with a renewed determination to find whoever was behind this. Feeling more at peace than he had since this whole thing started, Grissom had spent the remainder of the night sitting by the open shaft enjoying the silence of the surrounding desert.

It took twice as long to get the cover back on than it had to remove it in the first place and he knew by the time he'd managed it he was going to be late. Standing by the trunk of the car, he quickly brushed down the jeans he was wearing then removed the plastic bag he had strapped around his cast. He didn't have time to go home and change so it would have to do.

Feeling pain shoot through his ankle, he felt through his pockets for the Vicodin, swearing when he pulled out the vial and remembered he'd taken the last two shortly after arriving at the mineshaft. Tired and angry at himself, he hurled the empty container as far as he could and watched as it landed near the remains of the campfire. Pulling open the car door, he eased himself into the seat and reached for his water bottle. He took a drink and tried to calm himself down.

He knew he'd never be able to drive all the way back to Vegas without some kind of pain relief. He rummaged through the glove compartment; coming across an old packet of Fiorinal. It had been a long time since he'd had to rely on these to treat migraines and checking the box he found they were considerably out-of-date, but they were the only thing he had at hand. Swallowing two, he leant back in the driver's seat and hoped they'd be enough.

He looked out through the windscreen and realized he must have parked his car in about the same place that the van had been that night. In his nightmares, it always appeared to be much further from the mineshaft than it actually was; but then again, he knew from the way his dreams had changed lately that he couldn't rely on them for accuracy.

Initially, his dreams had been a virtual recreation of everything he remembered but over the past week they'd altered so that he was now watching the events unfold from a distance. He could never get close enough to stop what was happening but neither could he get far enough away that he couldn't see and hear everything. It was no longer himself that was tied to the van, branded and then lowered into the shaft; now it was Sara. And no matter what he tried, he couldn't help her.

He dreaded going to sleep now, especially when Sara was with him. Every time he saw her arm and the bruises he had put there, he felt a mixture of shame and fear. He had watched her pulling down her sleeve whenever Jim was around and hated knowing he was the cause. She had undoubtedly seen her mother do that same thing when she was a child; trying to cover the bruises so no one would know the truth, and now, because of him, she was having to do it herself.

He took another swig of water and realized the pills must have begun to work; the pain in his leg was now bearable. He checked his pockets, making sure both Sara's gift and the flash drive were both safe and added the remaining Fiorinal, just in case. Then, after putting his sunglasses on, he carefully maneuvered the Mercedes back to the highway and turned south towards Vegas.

TBC


	23. Chapter 25

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 23**

Jim Brass pulled into the large parking lot of the Courtyard Café grateful that his shift had finally finished. His first night back after the fire at his house had seemed to be all smooth sailing until he checked in with his office fifty minutes ago.

Cross-checking the registered owners of Nissan Pathfinders with the Fernley High class lists had turned up nothing. It was looking very much like they were going to have to physically track down as many of the SUVs as they could in an effort to find the one that they were after but Jim had a feeling it was going to be luck more than anything that eventually led them to the right vehicle.

He had also been informed that the claim adjuster wasn't going to be able to make the appointment at his house at 11am and his next free appointment wasn't until Thursday afternoon. By rights it should be a straight-forward claim but, going on past experience, Jim doubted that it would be especially if he was being jerked about by the insurance company already.

And just to top the night off, he'd had the uncomfortable feeling of being followed. He'd been constantly checking over his shoulder and at one stage had doubled-back trying to catch someone in the act but just ended up feeling stupid when there was no sign of a tail.

Jim looked around at the other parked cars and noted that Catherine, Warrick, Nick and Greg were already here but there was still no sign of Al Robbins, Sara or, most notably, Grissom. Jim just hoped that everything went well at this meal, mainly for Sara and Gil's sakes but also for his own; he didn't particularly feel in the mood to deal with any further hassles this morning; he'd had enough of those already. After checking his jacket to make sure he had his wallet and phone at hand, Brass got out of the Taurus and, after looking the door, walked over to the stairs that led to the entrance.

As he entered the restaurant, Jim never noticed the burgundy SUV that entered the lot and came to a stop, out of sight of the building, in a secluded corner of the car park.

* * *

Inside the restaurant, Catherine looked across the table at her three younger colleagues and decided now was the time to explain the ground rules.

"Okay guys, act naturally, no awkward questions and, especially, no teasing." Her glare let Greg know that she was serious. "We want this to go smoothly for Grissom's sake but, don't forget, Sara's been through a lot over the past week and a half too; she doesn't need anymore stress."

"You're telling me!" Warrick spoke up. "She's been working herself up about this get-together all night. I worked that convenience store hold-up with her and if she wasn't calling Grissom to make sure that he was alright she was checking her phone in case he'd called her. You'd think the man had never been left alone before."

"So, Griss is coming?" Greg asked hoping everything was going to go to plan.

"He'll be here." Jim informed everyone. "I checked with him before I left for work last night." He was interrupted by the arrival of Al Robbins.

"Sara's can't be too far behind me." The coroner said as he took a seat next to Catherine. "I saw her getting into her car back at the lab." He gazed out of the large windows that looked out over the car park to the golf course beyond. "What made you choose this place, Greg?"

"I wanted something different from the usual pancake places and I knew Sara would never eat anything from a buffet." He shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "I'd heard this place was nice and I thought she deserved something special for her birthday."

"It will probably be easier for Gil, too." Robbins commented. "I don't think he'd be very comfortable surrounded by the usual tourist crowd."

Conversation ceased as the waitress stopped at the table to take their drinks order; Catherine and Greg ordering mimosas whilst the rest opted for straight orange juice. Turning slightly in his seat to look out the window, Nick was just in time to see the silver Prius turn into the car park. "That's Sara now."

He continued to watch as she got out of the car, looked around the lot and then pulled out her cell phone. Standing next to her car, she conducted a short conversation before shutting the phone and heading towards the entrance.

She arrived at the table, taking a seat beside Greg. "I just called him; he's on his way. Apparently he got caught up with whatever it is he's working on and lost track of the time."

"He still hasn't told you what it is he's doing?" Nick asked curiously.

"I cornered him about it yesterday." Jim informed them. "It's got something to do with Red Turpentine beetles."

"But they're pretty common in Nevada, aren't they?" Greg asked. "I would have thought all the research had been done by now."

"Well, he must be on to something new. God knows he spends enough time with that laptop."

Ten minutes later, Brass saw the Mercedes swing into the empty parking space next to Sara's car. "He's here." Sara had noticed too. "Excuse me." She said as she got up from the table and headed to the door.

By the time she got there he was already half way out of the vehicle. She watched as he closed the car door and started towards her, noting with dismay the obvious signs of exhaustion. She had hoped he would manage to get at least some sleep with the house to himself. Still, his face lit up with a genuine smile when he saw her waiting.

"Happy birthday, honey." Stopping in front of her, he leaned in for a kiss. Sara stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his waist, trying her best not to disrupt his balance.

"I'm glad you're here." Feeling his arms go around her, some of her nervousness melted away.

Grissom looked towards the restaurant and noticed that they had an audience. "They're all at the window watching us, you know?"

"Who cares?" Sara said with a smile, stepping back nonetheless. It was then she actually paid attention to the state of the Mercedes.

"How on earth did the car get so dirty?"

He glanced back at it, remembering his plan to run it through a carwash on the way here. "Oh... I hit some road works on the way."

"It looks more like the road works hit you." She faced him again and smiled. "You ready to go in?"

"I guess they're all waiting for me."

"Yep."

"Better get it over with then." They moved towards the restaurant, Sara walking behind him as he negotiated the steps then pulling the door open to allow him to enter.

As they neared the table, Catherine rose from her seat and moved to intercept Grissom as Sara retook her seat.

"It's so good to see you." Opening her arms she pulled him into hug, moving away quickly the minute she felt him start to tense. "You're looking a lot better."

"Thanks Cath, I feel better." He looked at the rest of the table's occupants. "Hey guys, it's good to see you again."

"Can I get you a drink or something, Grissom?" Greg asked, anxious to be helpful.

"Orange juice would be fine, thanks Greg." As the young man headed towards the bar, Gil took his seat between Sara and Catherine, leaning his crutches against the wall.

"There's a big improvement around your eye, Griss." Nick said, looking at the mottled bruising that still covered much of Grissom's face.

Grissom reached up to gingerly run his fingers over the area. "Yeah, they seem to have done a good job. Once the rest of the swelling disappears it should be as good as new."

"And you're getting around better too." Catherine added.

"Getting rid of that fixator's made a big difference."

Greg returned with two glasses of orange juice, handing one to Sara and placing Grissom's on the table in front of him.

"I told the waitress we'd be ready to order in about fifteen minutes." He told the group as he reached for a menu.

Sara leaned towards Grissom. "You want me to get you some water so you can take your pills?"

His stomach dropped; he should have known she'd be aware of when his meds were due. Thinking quickly, he came up with a solution. "I have to go to the men's room anyway; I'll take them in there."

He reached over and grabbed his crutches then proceeded to get up, knocking his knee on the table leg in the process. Everyone heard the gasp and watched as the blood drained from his face. He stood still with his eyes squeezed shut, trying to fight the pain.

Both Catherine and Sara shot to their feet, each grabbing an arm to keep him upright.

"Oh God, are you alright?" Sara placed her other hand on his back to steady him.

Grissom slowly exhaled then opened his eyes again, seeing the concerned faces around the table.

"I'll be fine in a second." He gave an embarrassed laugh. "That wasn't too smart, wasn't it?"

"You going to be okay, Gil?" Al Robbins was glad to see the Grissom's color returning to normal.

"I just rapped my knee Al, it'll be fine." Shaking off the women's hands, he got the crutches under his arms. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

They all watched as he maneuvered his way through the dining area and entered the men's room.

"God Sara, when did he last eat a proper meal?" Catherine enquired concern clear in her voice.

"Probably the day this whole thing started." Sara told her honestly. "I make him a meal and, if I'm lucky, he'll eat a third of it. I'm not sure if it's because he's genuinely not hungry or he just doesn't have any interest in it. Dr. Morgan said not to worry too much; he'll start eating again when he's ready."

"Keep an eye on it, Sara." Al Robbins advised. "By the looks of him, he's dropped about ten pounds. He could afford to lose some weight but that's pretty extreme given the timeframe."

Ten minutes later, Sara checked her watch and turned to look at the restroom doors. Brass caught her movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Want me to go and check on him for you?"

"Would you mind?"

Jim gave her a smile and, getting up, headed towards the restrooms. Pushing the door open, he found Grissom standing in front of the sink, head down and bracing himself against the wall.

"You alright, Gil?" Concerned, Jim watched as sweat rolled down his friend's face.

"Yeah, I just took something for the pain. I'm waiting for it to kick in."

Brass quickly grabbed a handful of paper towel and, wetting it, pressed it against Grissom's forehead.

"Want me to get a chair for you?"

"No, it's okay. It's starting to ease off."

Jim was relieved to hear Grissom's breathing begin to slow as the medication did its work. Turning back to the tap, he rewet the paper towel and was about to look away when his eye caught the unfamiliar packet sitting on the sink. He picked it up.

"What's this? I thought you were taking Vicodin." He read the label then rechecked the date. "Shit Gil, these things expired over two years ago."

"I know. I ran out of Vicodin; that's all I could find."

"How many have you taken?"

"I took two about an hour ago and another one just now. They're not working as well as I hoped they would."

"Is it really smart to be taking something so out of date?"

"Probably not, no; but I didn't have a choice at the time, did I?" Gil spat out, fed up with the questioning. "Just go back to the table; I'll be there in a minute."

Jim weighed up his options. He didn't really want to leave Grissom alone but knew he didn't have the patience to handle him just now and things would only go further downhill if he stayed.

"Fine, I'll let Sara know you'll be right out." He started to leave then turned back, grabbed the remaining tablets and pocketed them. "I'm taking these with me." Pulling the door open he left Grissom standing at the sink.

Returning to the table, Jim took his seat. "He's just coming." He kept a close eye on the restroom door, relieved when he saw Grissom emerge minutes later.

* * *

Breakfast was served and conversation had, naturally, turned to work.

Grissom tried to look interested but, not knowing anything about any of the current cases, quickly found himself growing bored. There was only one case he could have discussed with them and, of course, that was out off-limits. Realizing he was starting to feel left out, Catherine tried to engage him in a separate conversation.

"So, where were you were thinking of moving to?"

"Excuse me?"

"Sara said you wanted to sell the townhouse and move somewhere else. Are you going to stay in the same area?"

"I don't know, Cath." He told her. "I think maybe it's time for a change."

"It must be kind of weird being there now; after what happened." She nodded towards Sara, who was still talking to Greg. "Sara was saying you're still having nightmares, too."

He quickly swung a glance towards Sara. "Did she now?"

She leaned closer. "You know, Lindsey used to have a lot of bad dreams when she was younger; I always found it helped if I could get her to talk about them."

"Thanks for the advice, but I don't really think it's the same thing." He pushed the food around his plate with his fork.

"Well, a nightmare's a nightmare and sometimes just vocalizing-"

He'd had enough. "Catherine, I really don't see the comparison between Lindsey having nightmares about monsters under the bed when she was five and me having nightmares about Sar-"

He cut himself off but was aware that everyone at the table had fallen silent. Closing his eyes, he deepened his breathing and started counting silently. He felt Sara reach out and cover his hand with her own.

"You okay?" She asked quietly.

He nodded but didn't speak; if he could count to twenty-five in his head he knew he had things under control. Finally there, he opened his eyes and began breathing normally. He felt Catherine's hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry, Gil, I was just trying to help."

He rubbed his fingertips over his forehead. ""I know, Cath. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

Al Robbins kept his eye on him. "Headache, Gil?"

"Yeah." Grissom answered absently.

Catherine took a closer look at Grissom. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"No, not really." Uncomfortable, he tried changing the subject. "How's everyone else at the..."

"You know, I'm sure your doctor would prescribe something to help you sleep if you ask him."

"Cath, stop it!"

Catherine was genuinely puzzled. "Stop what? What am I doing?"

"Stop playing mother-hen, I don't need it and I don't want it." Grissom ground out through gritted teeth.

"Okay, you win." Catherine raised her hands defensively. "It looks like whatever I say is going to be the wrong thing so I won't say anything at all."

She went back to her meal and Grissom sighed. He knew his presence at this breakfast had been important to Sara and had wanted things to go well for her sake but, so far, he'd managed to piss off Brass and alienate Catherine. He pushed his plate away and took a mouthful of juice. Reaching back, he massaged his neck trying to alleviate some of the pressure; he just wanted to go home to bed.

"Didn't you take some painkillers before we ate? Surely they'd help with the headache." Al's voice broke into his thoughts.

Before Grissom could answer, Brass spoke up. "It probably would have if he'd taken the right pills."

"What?" Sara turned to face Gil. "What is he talking about? What have you taken?"

"I ran out of Vicodin so I took some migraine medication instead, okay? It's not that big a deal."

"What was it, Gil?" Al asked, concerned by Grissom's actions.

"Here." Brass slid the box across the table. "Check the date on them."

Al Robbins picked up the box and examined the label. "You haven't used Fiorinal in years. Why do you even still have them around?"

"I don't know." Grissom head was beginning to pound. "I found it in the glove compartment and it was all I had so I took it."

"How many have you taken?"

"Three, that's all."

Sara's broke in. "Hang on; I got your prescriptions refilled on Saturday. There's a full bottle of Vicodin in the bathroom. Why didn't you get that?"

He was too tired to think of a lie. "Because I wasn't at home at the time, Sara. Alright?"

Sara stared at him. "Why didn't you just go back home?"

"I didn't have enough time; I was too far away."

"Where did you go?" She demanded.

"It doesn't matter." Grissom stated. "I went for a drive and then I came here; although I'm seriously beginning to wonder why I bothered."

She thought for a moment. "You were too far away to go back home and get the pills that you needed, your car is a mess and," She looked at what he was wearing. "you're still wearing the same clothes you had on last night. Where did you go, Grissom?"

"I went out to the mineshaft, alright?" He spat. "Are you happy now?"

Although she had begun to suspect it, Sara was still shocked. "Why would you do that? How do you even know where it is?"

Gil tried to think quickly. "I saw where it was when I was in the layout room back at the lab."

"No, you didn't." Catherine frowned. "You would have seen the photos but there's nothing in that room that shows the actual location of that shaft."

No one spoke; all eyes were on Grissom waiting for him to continue. Cornered he did the only thing he could do.

"What the hell is this?" His voice was calm but ice-cold. "I thought I was coming here for a meal with friends _not_ the Spanish Inquisition. I don't have to explain a damn thing to any of you."

Watching Grissom's hands as he clenched and unclenched them on the tabletop, Warrick decided now was the time to intervene.

"Hey Griss, how about you and me grabbing some fresh air?"

Not waiting for an answer, he rose from his seat, walked around the table and picked up the crutches, holding them out for Grissom to take. Seeing Sara also start to rise he placed both hands on her shoulders and pressed her back down.

"You stay here; I got this."

Leaving everyone else at the table he hurried to reach the door before Grissom, pushing it open and standing aside to let him exit. They made it to the car park before Grissom had to stop.

"You okay?" Warrick asked.

"I think I better sit down."

Looking around quickly, Warrick spotted the Mercedes. "Give me your keys." Opening the passenger door he gestured for Grissom to take a seat before running around to the driver's side and getting in the car himself.

"Thanks for getting me out, Warrick."

"No problem. I figured I'd better make a move before you decked someone." He chuckled. "You know what's funny? Before you arrived, Catherine laid down the law to me, Nick and Greg about how we behaved around you. Looks like she was talking to the wrong people."

"You guys have been great." Grissom gave him a strained smile. "Although I think Greg is only another drink or so away from becoming annoying. You might want to remind him he has to work tonight."

"What's up with Brass? He certainly has it in for you over those pills."

"I had a go at him earlier when he followed me to the men's room. I guess that was payback." He sighed. "Between him glaring across the table at me and Catherine's over-protective mother act, I just... needed to get out."

"Sara jumping on the bandwagon wouldn't have helped, huh?"

"Sara's just tired and worried. She hasn't been sleeping any better than I have."

Both men remained silent for a moment.

"It scares me, Warrick." Grissom told him honestly.

"What does?"

"The knowledge that I really could have hit someone. That, given the chance, I would have."

"No you wouldn't, not without a good reason." Warrick assured him. "I know you; you're not that kind of person."

Grissom didn't comment; images of Sara's bruised wrist flashed through his head.

"They did explain at the hospital what was wrong with you, didn't they?" Warrick said quietly.

"You mean Post-Concussion Syndrome? Yeah, I read up on it on the internet too."

"So did I" Warrick told him. "You know that what you're feeling is because of that then, right?"

"Yeah, knowing that doesn't make it easier though." Grissom ran his hand through his hair. "I'm tired Warrick, too tired to deal with this at the moment. I guess coming here wasn't such a good idea after all."

"Crap! You took a step forward coming here today. Honestly? I didn't even think you'd show." Warrick shook his head in disbelieve. "Man, this is a turn up for the books, isn't it?"

Grissom looked at him. "What?"

"Me giving you the pep talk; it's usually the other way around." He saw the tired smile. "Did it help you to go out to the shaft, Griss?"

"Yes." Grissom didn't even have to think. "We've all had victims that felt like they had to return to the scene and, up until now, I never really understood why. I never had a chance at the time to see the place for what it really was and my imagination was blowing it all out of proportion. Now that I've been there... now that I know I don't have anything to be afraid of there; it can't hurt me anymore."

Warrick nodded. "I can understand that." He thought for a second. "Can I give you some advice?"

Grissom smiled. "Sure, why not?"

"First of all; if you read what I did on PCS then you know you're going to have to talk about this with someone that knows what they're doing. I really think you need to try that."

He paused, not sure how his suggestion would be received, but was surprised by Grissom's reply.

"Is this in addition to the psychiatric evaluation Conrad's demanding?" Turning, he was amused by the look on Warrick's face. "No one thought I knew about that, did they?"

"Who told you?"

"It doesn't matter. The fact that everyone thought they had to hide it from me does though."

"I'm sorry, Griss." Warrick said. "Doc Robbins thought it might not be the best time to throw that at you."

Grissom nodded as he stared out the window. "Got any other advice?"

"Yeah, I think you should go home, take your _proper_ meds and try to get some rest."

Grissom looked over at him and smiled. "That might be a good idea. Thanks Warrick... for everything."

"No problem." Warrick got out of the car. "I'll let Sara know you want to go home. I think she should drive you; me and Nick will drop her car by later."

"Could you ask her to give me ten minutes first, I'll just take it easy out here for a bit."

"Sure." Warrick closed the door then reopened it. "Hey Griss, how about next time it's just you, me, Nick and Greg? We'll go out for a pizza or something."

"You're on. I'll give you a call." He reached into his pocket for his wallet. "Hey, that's place is kind of expensive." He held out a credit card. "Have them charge the bill to that; Greg shouldn't have to pay for a meal I ruined."

"You didn't ruin it, Griss." He reached out and took the card. "I don't know about anyone else, but after talking to you out here, I feel a hell of a lot better than I did before."

Gil smiled as he watched Warrick head back towards the restaurant. He waited until the door closed before picking up his keys and getting out of his vehicle. Moving over to Sara's car, he used the spare key to open her door then placed the gift-wrapped box on the seat. He closed the door, making sure it was locked before rounding the Mercedes to the driver's side.

He knew what he had to do now.

Grissom never looked back as he drove out of the car park.

* * *

Warrick spoke to the waitress and handed over the credit card before walking back over to the table.

"What game are you people playing here?" He demanded as he stood in front of everyone.

"Is he okay, Warrick?" Brass asked, concerned at the way things had ended.

"Yeah" Warrick responded, anger still evident. "He's fine, he's calmed down but you can't tell me Grissom's the one with control problems. Not after you just ambushed him. I though one of the reasons for this morning was to ease Griss back into the team; if I were him I probably wouldn't want anything to do with any of us." He turned to Sara. "He went to the mineshaft because he felt he had to; we've all seen victims do that before, it's not that unusual. He ran out of his meds and instead of doing the sensible thing and going home for them, he came here because he knew how important this was to you. And look at what it got him."

No one spoke. Sara and Jim, in particular, aware of the part they'd played in the proceedings.

Anger abating, Warrick sat down. "He's waiting out in the car, Sara. The man needs to go home and get some sleep. I said you'd drive him."

Sara nodded silently and began gathering her things together.

Getting up from his seat, Nick was just in time to see the Mercedes pull out of its space and head back towards the street. "Um, I guess he got tired of waiting; he's leaving now."

He moved over as Greg hurried to the window to join him.

"Dammit." Sara exclaimed, pulling out her cell phone to call Grissom. She stopped when she heard Nick's voice.

"No!" He began running to the door, yelling back as he went. "Greg, try to get the tag number, I'll see if I can follow them."

Greg spun from the window. "Hurry, I need a pen!"

Jim felt through his pockets and handed him a pen and his notebook.

"What is it, Greg?" Catherine asked.

"Wait a minute, I want to write this down."

From the car park came the sound of Nick's truck starting up and then peeling out towards the road.

Greg thrust the notepad back at Jim. "Here!"

"What is it?" Confused, Brass read what was written. "715. What's that?"

"I couldn't get all of it but that should be enough."

"Enough for what? I don't understand."

"Enough to get the rest of the registration of the burgundy Pathfinder that just followed Grissom out of the car park."

TBC


	24. Chapter 26

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 24**

**A/N:** Not so much an author's note as a groveling explanation.

I'm down to one arm thanks to a shoulder reconstruction which I didn't quite bounce back from as well as I'd hoped. If I'm lucky, my right arm will be back in service for Christmas but in the meantime I'm a trainee 'lefty'. And, believe me, trying to get used to using a mouse with your left hand is not easy!

This and the next couple of chapters have been sitting on my hard-drive waiting for their finishing touches but, to be honest, I haven't been in the mood. It's as simple as that. Thanks has to go to CR1-GSR for the gentle prod I was given a few days ago.

I'm not thrilled with this effort but I didn't really want to be listed as MIA so, for better or worse, this is chapter 24. I'm going to try to get back on schedule but it might take a little while to get around to it so please be patient and I promise there will be no more 3 week 'holidays'.

* * *

Sean Tate swung into the car park of the first convenience store he came across; he needed to calm down and he needed to do it now. He watched the traffic passing on South Nellis Boulevard as he slowed his breathing and tried to regain some control. Confident now that he had lost his pursuer, Sean ran over the last few hours in his mind.

His primary concern had been in finding out where Jim Brass was staying now that his house was uninhabitable. It had taken three nights of sitting outside of the LVMPD building to locate him again and he had kept a loose tail on the bastard's car all night. He'd been amused when the cop had doubled back, obviously sensing something wasn't quite right, but Sean had been far enough back to recognize the maneuver for what it was and just drove past then picked him up again a few minutes further down the road.

From PD to the Crime Lab and quite a few places in-between, Sean had tailed the Taurus determined to discover where Brass was holed up. Initially, he'd thought the stop at the Courtyard Café was purely for business but as he drove past the other vehicles in the large car park he realized he'd seen a few of them before. He parked the SUV on the far side of the lot, adjusting his rearview mirror so that he had a clear view of the restaurant's door.

It was then that he noticed the Prius turn into the driveway. The brunette who got out of the car took his breath away.

Jason Beck had said there was a resemblance between Sara Sidle and Debbie Marlin but Sean hadn't been expecting to see Debbie's twin. He watched as she looked around the other cars then pulled out her cell phone and dialed. Her expression changed to one of relief as she spoke and seconds later he followed her with his eyes as she put her phone away and headed towards the steps that led up to the restaurant's entrance.

The last thing he had been expecting was to see the Mercedes pull into the lot and swing in beside the woman's car. Sean was mesmerized as she came back outside and almost ran down the stairs to the back of the newly-arrived vehicle. He watched their greeting, their ease with one another, and felt the now-familiar knife twist in his chest. He closed his eyes, not wanting to witness more.

It should have been him being greeted by the love of his life; standing with his arms around her in a restaurant car park – but that had been snatched from him.

Seeing Grissom again was disconcerting; the man shouldn't even be alive. Why Kevin Beck had chosen that particular night to discover his conscience, Sean would never know but Kevin had paid the price for his betrayal and, ultimately, so had Jason. If it hadn't been for Jason's fraternal loyalty, Sean would never have had to kill his best friend – actually his only friend. After everything he had done for both brothers over the years; surely their loyalty to him should have been paramount.

When he'd next opened his eyes, Sean had been surprised to find Grissom and Sara were no longer there. Checking the time, he realized he must have dozed off; it had been just after 8 when he got here and his watch now read 9:15. Suddenly the door of the restaurant had swung open and Grissom had emerged followed by the tall, black man Sean had identified as Warrick Brown. The pair sat in the Mercedes talking for ten minutes or so before Brown exited and made his way back inside.

Sean had watched, transfixed, as Grissom got back out of the car, opened the woman's Prius and placed something inside before moving to the driver's side of his own vehicle and getting in. He'd followed the car's progress as it pulled out of its parking space and headed for the exit. Quickly considering his options, Sean started the Pathfinder and headed out after him.

Pulling out into the street, he could see Grissom's vehicle up ahead, just approaching the on-ramp for Summerlin Parkway. It was then that Sean became aware of the squealing of tires and screaming engine behind him. Checking his mirror, he was just in time to see the large pick-up barrel out of the lot he had just left and tear up the street after him.

He put his foot down as adrenalin surged through his system. It never even registered that the Mercedes was no longer in front of him as he tore up the ramp and headed east, weaving in and out of traffic as much as he could in an effort to lose the truck behind him.

Risking a glance in the mirror, he could see that the pick-up was still following but he had managed to put at least ten car lengths between them. The Pathfinder was big and difficult to maneuver at speed, but the vehicle chasing him was bigger and even more ungainly and Sean decided to use that to his advantage.

The closer they got to the interstate, the more traffic they encountered and Sean managed to put more vehicles between himself and his tail. By the time he saw the signs for Exit 70, he knew he was far enough ahead that his pursuer would either not see him get off or, if he did, would be unable to tell which surface streets he had taken. He shot down Sandhill Road, running a red light and almost spinning out as he turned onto East Flamingo then floored it as he headed for South Nellis.

Returning to the present, Sean was finally calm enough to think clearly. He had to stop acting on impulse; if he's stuck with his original plan to follow the cop none of this would have happened. He'd spent the past two years working out his plan; he couldn't afford to screw it up just because he got impatient. As things stood now, he still had no idea where Jim Brass was staying and he'd managed to lose track of Grissom as well.

He was going to have to do something about the Pathfinder too. Now that he knew they were aware of the type of vehicle he was driving, he couldn't take the risk of having it on the road. As he continued to keep an eye on the passing traffic his attention was caught by a sign further along the road: LV Storage Rental. He quickly came up with a new plan; it might take a couple of days to get everything in place but, after what happened today, it would probably be better to lie low for a little while anyway.

* * *

It was almost 8pm on Monday evening when Jim Brass walked into the crime lab. He was exhausted but with his shift due to start again shortly there wasn't any point in trying to get some sleep. He knew he wasn't the only one in that position either; he'd seen both Catherine and Sara's cars parked outside. He found Catherine in the break room.

"Any news?" She asked anxiously as he entered.

"Found the registered owner of the Pathfinder." He filled a cup with coffee and took a seat at the table. "Frank Seymour, age 64 from Tonopah. I had the locals there go out and speak with him. Turns out he sold the vehicle to a Steven Taylor who told Mr. Seymour he had just moved into the area from Arizona and offered him extra $1000 as collateral to keep the plates on the car until he could get to the DMV for a movement permit – that was five weeks ago. Seymour tried getting in touch with the buyer but, strangely, the contact details he was given were false and he was afraid to report it to the police."

"Did he least give us a description of the man?"

"Yeah." Brass withdrew is notebook. "White, 35 – 45, couple of inches under 6 feet and 'honest-looking'; that's all he could remember. I thought I'd drive out there with the year book photos tomorrow after I get some sleep"

"It's a long way to go to show the man twenty year old pictures." Catherine commented.

Jim shrugged. "I know it's a long shot but if he can pick out someone that looks even vaguely like the guy that bought the car it'll be worth the six hour round trip."

The room was silent as both sipped from their cups. Catherine looked at Brass, noting the signs of tiredness and worry on his face.

"Nick's still mad at himself for losing the Pathfinder." She told him. "He and Warrick went out to the mineshaft to see if anyone had gone back there; they found an empty pill bottle with Gil's name on it and signs that the cover had been removed and put back recently but that's all."

"I've been driving around all day myself." Jim stifled a yawn. "I tried everywhere I could think of that he might have gone. I even stopped by Heather Kessler's; business must be good; there was a brand new Lexus parked in the driveway but no one answered the door when I knocked. I'll swing by there again later tonight."

"Are we doing the right thing trying to keep this quiet, Jim?" Catherine asked.

"I know it's tempting to put out an APB out on him, Catherine, but I really don't think that whoever was in that vehicle today has Gil."

Brass couldn't fail to miss the look of hope that flashed across Catherine's face.

"I've checked out video from a couple of security cameras downtown; I can see the Pathfinder and Nick's truck but the Mercedes is nowhere on those tapes. Warrick said that when he was talking with Grissom, he was tired and obviously in pain but there was no anger; he was even making excuses for the way Sara behaved towards him. Now, we all assumed that he was heading home when he left but I'm beginning to wonder if he went that way at all." Jim took a mouthful of coffee. "Nick was on that SUV's tail within minutes. He followed him all the way to the 515 but he never saw Grissom once. I think the driver was so busy trying to shake Nick that Gil was able to turn off somewhere without being noticed."

"But why would Gil take off? Where would he go?" Catherine hoped Jim was right but that still didn't explain the disappearance.

"I don't know. I wish I did." Jim drained his cup. "I have a feeling that what Warrick took to be calm was actually resignation; Gil had already made up his mind to leave. Maybe we just gave him the excuse he needed."

He checked his watch.

"If we still haven't found him in 12 hours time, I'll report him as missing. In the meantime, I _have_ listed the Mercedes as stolen so, with some luck, a patrol will turn it up before we have to make anything official." He got up refill his cup. "How's Sara holding up?"

"Greg and I managed to talk her into going home this morning to wait but she turned up here about four hours ago. She was going to check out Gil's laptop but discovered it was password protected. So, she brought it in to see if Archie can crack it." She shrugged. "Who knows, maybe whatever's on there will give us a clue as to where he's gone."

"We'll find him, Catherine. I promise." Brass assured her as he returned to his seat. "So, where's Sara now?"

"Swing caught a gas station robbery that turned bad; Sara offered to help so I okayed it. I think its better that she's kept busy just now." She chuckled ruefully. "You remember how a couple of years ago she always seemed to be angry about something? I never even realized that had all changed until this afternoon when she was prowling around here with nothing to do. I don't think she knows who to be mad at first; Gil for disappearing the way he did or herself for hounding him into it."

"You know, Cath, it's me she should really be angry at." Jim frowned. "I was annoyed about the insurance company jerking me about and the vehicle checks falling through and when I walked into that bathroom... I don't know, I guess I was pissed at Gil's stupidity. He should have gone home to take his meds, we could have all met up some other time; but no, he decides to self-medicate. When Al asked about his headache, I couldn't help myself, I had to say something and then Sara started in; I guess it just went too far."

"Yeah well, I probably didn't help things either." Catherine admitted. "Great way to celebrate a birthday! You didn't see the gift he left in her car, did you?"

"No, that must have been after I left to start searching. I never saw Sara after that."

"White gold and diamond pendant. I recognized the name of the jewelers; it must have cost him a fortune."

"It did." Brass told her. "I've been monitoring his credit cards hoping that he'll use one of them. How did she take finding that?"

"She never said a word. I thought for a moment she was going to either burst into tears or throw it across the car park but instead, she very calmly put it in her glove compartment and hasn't mentioned it since."

Jim reached into his pocket as his phone began ringing. Catherine watched his expression change as he spoke. Hanging up, he looked across the table at her.

"We may need to rethink my theory on Gil's disappearance."

Catherine felt her stomach knot with dread. "Why?"

"A patrol doing a drive-through of the long-term parking area at McCarran just found the Mercedes."

"The airport?" Catherine was genuinely puzzled. "Why would it be there?"

"There's more." Brass continued. "According to the officer who found the car; it's locked and the keys are lying on the floor inside." Catherine watched the muscles in Jim's jaw tighten. "He also said there's what appears to be blood on the driver's door and smeared across the trunk lid."

TBC


	25. Chapter Twentyfive

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 25**

Catherine pulled the Denali to a stop just behind Jim's Taurus. The area surrounding Grissom's car had been roped off as per Brass' instructions and both slipped under the tape while pulling on latex gloves. Brass bent to peer into the front of the car while Catherine remained at the back, examining the trunk.

"Maybe we should have called Sara and had her meet us here." Jim said as he checked the back seat. "She's got a set of keys for this thing."

"I'd prefer not to tell her about this until we know what we've got." Catherine told him. "There was a spare set of keys in Gil's desk; I brought them with me." She moved down the side of the car to join him. "There's some blood on the trunk lid; how much can you see there?"

"The way they were talking on the phone I was expecting a lot but there are just a couple of smears on the door and it looks like there's some marks on the driver's seat that could be blood; it's hard to say from here." He pointed to a crack in the dashboard. "Does that look new to you?"

"It must be." She looked through the window, studying the interior "Gil would have had it repaired as soon as it happened; you know what he's like about this car. Can't see anything else out of the ordinary; of course, we don't know what's in the trunk yet."

Brass walked to the back of the car and stared at the trunk, hoping his friend wasn't inside. "Give me the keys and then move away." He held out his hand.

She walked back to join him. "I can do this, Jim, it's my job."

"Catherine, we have to know one way or the other whether he's in there and, if he is, you do not need to see it. Now, hand over the keys."

Silently, she placed one hand on Jim's arm and handed the key ring over with the other. He waited until she was far enough away before carefully inserting the key in the lock and raising the trunk lid. Brass wasn't aware that he was holding his breath until it escaped in a gush.

Catherine watched as he leaned into the open trunk and pulled out a gym back on top of which was a torn t-shirt stained with fresh-looking blood.

"It's clear, Cath." He called over as he picked up the shirt for a closer look. Catherine returned to the back of the car and looked inside, seeing nothing else out of the ordinary.

"Thank God for that." She commented as she examined the bag, sorting through the other articles of clothing as she went. "Spare clothes." She took the t-shirt from Jim. "That tear looks pretty recent; I wonder where the rest of it is."

"The real question is where the blood came from in the first place." Brass stated as he watched Catherine lower the shirt into an evidence bag.

"Hopefully we'll have the answer to that soon." She stood and put the gym bag back into the trunk before closing the lid. "I'm going to process the outside of the car and then get the truck out here to tow it back to the lab. We'll leave the interior until then."

"While you're doing that I'll have the airlines check their passenger manifests, maybe Gil caught a flight out somewhere. I'll also stop by security and see about getting a copy of the video from the cameras. With some luck, we might just be able to shed some light on what happened out here."

* * *

Catherine and Nick were supervising the unloading of the Mercedes when Conrad Ecklie found them. He'd searched the entire lab before thinking to check the garage and the delay hadn't improved his mood.

"There you are!" Ecklie stormed up to the pair. "Catherine, you want to explain to me why Grissom was given access to the lab after I left strict instructions that he was not to even enter the building?"

Annoyed at the intrusion, Catherine barely glanced over her shoulder at him. "What? When?" She looked at her watch. "Shouldn't you have gone home by now?"

He ignored her last question. "The same night I issued the memo about his suspension, someone logged into the system using the administrator's password and there's only one person that would have done that." He impatiently explained to her. "Do you want to explain to me now, or later, when I involve the sheriff?"

"Conrad, I don't know anything about that and we're rather busy here so could this perhaps wait until I'm free?"

She moved forward to direct the reversing tow truck into the garage. Ecklie looked up, finally recognizing the vehicle that was being brought in.

"Isn't that Grissom's car?" He stepped closer for a better look. "What's it doing here?"

"It's being treated as a crime scene." Catherine watched as the driver lowered the car to the ground and Nick began unhooking it. "It was found abandoned at McCarran; the keys are still inside."

Ecklie was confused. "Well, where's Gil?"

"He's missing, Conrad. No one's seen him since this morning and he's not answering his phone."

"Hang on." Ecklie raised one hand to stop her continuing. "One of my supervisors, who I might add, was recently assaulted and left for dead, is missing and no one thinks to let me know? God Catherine, I'm used to Gil treating me with contempt but I really expected more from you."

"I'm sorry, Conrad." She turned her attention from the car and ran through the morning's events.

"And no one has any idea where he is?" Ecklie asked. "Not even Sidle?"

"No, the guys have been out all day looking around. I was trying to keep it quiet in the hope that he'd just turn up at home but then we found the car."

"You should have called me, Catherine." He shook his head. "I take it were getting the security footage from the airport."

"Yes, Brass is getting it now. I'll have Archie start on it as soon as it arrives."

"Good." Ecklie bent to look in the Mercedes windows. "Do you need a hand processing?"

"No, Nick and I can handle it. Sara's out covering that robbery with Swing and I've got Warrick and Greg covering everything else just now."

He gestured towards the car. "Does Sara know about this yet?"

"No, I'll speak to her as soon as she gets back. Hopefully by then, we might know a bit more."

"Okay, I'll let you get on with it." He walked towards the door then turned back. "If you do need help let me know and please, keep me informed this time, alright?"

"Thanks, Conrad." She smiled over at him. "I'll let you know what we find."

* * *

They confirmed that the blood on both the car door and t-shirt belonged to Grissom, all the prints that they'd collected were either his or Sara's and there was no unidentifiable trace evidence found in or on the vehicle. In short, there was nothing to say that a third party had been anywhere near the Mercedes.

Catherine and Nick stood at the bench in the garage and looked over the two items they'd discovered inside the car; Grissom's wallet and cell phone. The phone had been turned off and was found inside the glove compartment whilst the wallet was located in the center console.

"Where the hell would he go without his car, phone or wallet?" Catherine looked at Nick for an answer but all he could do was shrug.

"He probably had some cash on him but Griss never carries much, he usually puts everything on his cards." Nick opened the wallet again. "And it looks like there all here except the one he gave Warrick at the restaurant."

Both looked up as Sara almost charged into the garage.

"Why the hell didn't you call me?" She demanded as she came to a stop in front of Catherine.

Understanding Sara's anger, Catherine tried to explain. "There was no point until we knew what we had; you couldn't have done anything anyway. At least now I can tell you that we're fairly sure no one else was involved in Gil's disappearance."

She watched relief flood Sara's face.

"We found his wallet and phone locked inside the car. There was some blood but not enough to point to anything life-threatening."

"There's nowhere else that you can think of to look, Sara?" Nick asked as he bagged Grissom's belongings.

Before she could answer, Catherine's phone beeped. Pulling it out she, read the screen. "Archie's ready for us."

Entering the AV lab, all eyes were drawn to the large screen, currently displaying a paused image of the rear of the Mercedes. The picture quality was grainy but clear enough to make out the shape of one person sitting in the driver's seat.

Catherine perused the rest of the room before taking a seat. "Where's Brass?"

Archie turned to answer. "He got a call from one of the security guys he'd spoken to at the airport. After he left to bring this tape back here, this guy kept searching and found footage of Grissom from another camera. Brass is on his way back with it now but I thought you'd like to see what we've got so far."

Sara moved to take the seat beside Catherine as Nick stood behind.

"Okay." Archie started. "Griss drove in to the car park just after 10am. He was definitely alone and there's no sign of any following vehicles on this tape."

Audible sighs of relief were heard from both Sara and Catherine.

"For the first twenty minutes or so he just sat in the car. The cameras too far away to see details clearly but, every so often he picks something up, looks at it and then puts it down again; we're pretty sure it's his phone."

"That must have been when we were calling him every couple of minutes hoping he'd answer." Catherine said as the tape fast-forward to the next cue point. She watched as the figure in the car leaned to the right and obviously put the item into the glove compartment, slamming the door before sitting upright again.

"And that's when he turned it off." Nick pointed out.

Archie continued his narrative as the tape moved on. "He stays in the car for another ten minutes but, unlike before, it now looks like he's getting agitated."

"You know, we don't think he actually knew he was being followed when he left the restaurant." Catherine said. "He was in pain, he had a headache and he'd just left an argument, I'll bet you anything he was sitting in that car getting more angry each time that phone rang."

"Which could explain this." Archie slowed the tape and they all saw the driver pull back his right arm and then slam it into the dashboard of the car. The Mercedes shook from the force.

"Ouch, that had to hurt" Nick winced in sympathy. "I'm guessing that's where the blood came from."

The video went to the next cue, showing Grissom now out of the car and opening the trunk. They watched as he pulled out the t-shirt and held it to his knuckles, before ripping a piece off and using it to wrap around his hand. He then returned to the driver's side, tossed the keys inside and slammed the door closed. Archie paused the tape.

"That's it." He told them. "He left the car park and there's no other activity around the car until the cops found it. Hopefully, the second tape will give us some idea where he went."

It was as he stopped talking that he realized Sara hadn't said a word while the tape was playing and was still staring blankly at the screen in front of her. "You okay, Sara?"

She blinked, and shifted her attention to the AV tech. "Yeah, fine. How'd you go with the laptop?"

"Good." Archie shot Nick a concerned look before continuing. "I managed to bypass the security Grissom had set up using the software we've got here." He got up and retrieved the computer, placing it down in front of Sara. "As soon as you see what's on it you'll understand why he had it so well protected."

She turned it on and they waited as it ran through its start-up routine. When the desktop appeared, Archie pointed to a folder named Lepidoptera. "That's the one you're after."

Both Sara and Catherine gasped when they realized they what they were looking at: copies of almost everything they had on Grissom's case plus all the files relating to the Debbie Marlin and Vincent Lurie murders.

"Oh my God" Catherine ran her hand across her forehead, feeling her own headache start. "How the hell did he get all of that?"

"Don't look at me." Sara threw up her hands in self-defense. "I had nothing to do with it."

"I know that, Sara, I wasn't accusing anyone." Catherine assured her. "Ecklie said someone logged into the system on the same night his memo came out; you and Greg had that hit-and-run, Warrick was out all night and Nick and I spent most of the shift with Jim." She thought for a moment. "That was also the night that Grissom went out for a drive. Maybe Conrad was right; maybe Gil did come in that night. I mean, who else could it have been?"

Nick turned quickly to look across the hallway towards the trace lab. "Oh, I could probably come up with a suspect for you."

Brass entered, a video cassette held in his hand. "Suspect in what?"

"Have a look at what Archie found on Gil's computer." Catherine said, moving slightly to let Jim get a closer look at the screen.

Brass quickly scanned the list of files in front of him; he leaned against the table and shook his head. "He's trying to work the damn case, isn't he?"

"It looks that way." Catherine turned to Archie. "Is there anyway you can find out what he's been doing with these files?"

"All I can tell you about them is when they were last accessed. Anytime he's saved something lately it's been to the E: drive, so he's using some kind of portable storage." He held up a finger. "I can tell you that he's set up a diversion to bounce his personal email to another address but I have no way of getting into that without a court order."

"Which we have no hope of getting." Brass pointed out. He held out the new tape for Archie to take. "Here, maybe we'll have more luck with this."

Jim opened his notebook as the tech started the video. "Apparently, Gil's on here twice. First at 10:53 am then again at 11:19."

Archie sped through the footage until it neared the first time Jim had mentioned. They all watched as Grissom, right hand still wrapped in the torn t-shirt, made a call from one of the public phones inside the main terminal.

"Well, if nothing else, at least now we know he's definitely safe."

Moving forward to 11:19, the aspect shifted to a camera outside the building. The camera angle was awkward, positioned more to cover the line of cabs that sat outside the door than the people waiting for a ride but it was enough to show Grissom sitting on the a bench against the wall. As they continued to watch, a large white SUV pulled up, almost out of frame, and Gil stood and moved towards it. They saw him speak through the lowered passenger side window then open the door, hand his crutches to someone and get in. A few seconds later, the vehicle drove off.

Archie rewound the tape and paused on a shot of the SUV. "I'll see if I can clean it up enough to make out what kind of car it is."

"There's no need." Brass told him as he stared at the image on the screen. "It's a Lexus 570. We may not know where Grissom is but I know who does."

TBC


	26. Chapter Twentysix

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 26**

Brass insisted on checking his theory out before announcing it publicly.

His phone calls went unanswered and even a drive out to where he had seen the SUV got him no further to the truth. He then ran a police check and quickly came across the very recent registration of a white Lexus LX570.

Entering the beak room he found Sara and Catherine sitting together at the table. He moved to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup before turning to speak to the women.

"Where are the guys?" He asked as he stirred his beverage.

"They're doing a food run." Catherine informed him. "I thought we could all do with some breakfast; they should be back soon."

Picking up his cup, Brass headed around to the far side of the table, deliberately seating himself opposite Sara in order to gauge her reaction to what he was about to tell her. He was aware of her watching him as he internally debated what to say.

"Out with it, Jim." Sara patience had run out. "I know you've got news."

He took a deep breath. "The Lexus belongs to Heather Kessler."

Catherine gasped out loud. "As in Lady Heather? That's who he's with?"

Brass kept his eyes on Sara. "I don't know if he's with her now but I'm certain that's who picked him up at the airport."

Sara closed her eyes and tried to think. Her initial reaction to the woman's name had been a quick flash jealousy. However, within seconds she had sound herself relieved that Grissom had, at least, had the good sense to turn to someone who would, undoubtedly be more than capable of keeping him out of harm's way. At this point, just knowing he was safe was almost enough. Almost, but not quite.

"Is he at The Dominion?" Sara's eyes opened and quickly met Jim's.

"I went out there and spoke with one of the employees." Brass told her. "According to him, Heather had a family emergency yesterday; she went out for an hour or so then returned home, grabbed a couple of things and hasn't been seen since. She must have been there when I dropped by; that's where I saw the SUV in the first place." He saw Catherine about to interrupt but got in ahead of her. "I asked about Gil but the guy didn't know anything about him. I have no doubt Heather's got him stashed away somewhere but I don't think it there."

He waited for a response from Sara but she remained silent, absent-mindedly fiddling with a pen on the table in front of her. He looked to Catherine for help.

"Well, at least we know he's okay now." Catherine stated. "Heather will make sure he's alright."

"Great!" Sara said, the sarcasm in her voice unmistakable. "He disappears, abandons his car at the airport; he's out there with none of his belongings, none of his medications but as long as he has Heather Kessler he'll be alright." She stood up and walked to the door. "What the hell does that say about the rest of us?"

Jim and Catherine watched as she stormed along the hallway and pushed through the door to the locker room, slamming it behind her. When she didn't reappear, Catherine stood up.

"Maybe I should go after her?"

"Give it a couple of minutes." Jim advised. "She's been holding a lot in the past few weeks; I'm surprised it's taken this long for any of it to show."

"Have you seen Sara?"

Both heads turned as Judy appeared in the doorway.

"There's a Heather Kessler out at reception asking to speak with her."

Pushing her chair back, Catherine stood and quickly left the room with Brass just a few steps behind.

* * *

Having been informed of her visitor, Sara hurried out of the locker room and headed towards the reception area. Not wanting to intrude any more than was necessary, Catherine returned to the break room but Brass was nowhere near as polite. Sara could sense his presence just behind her but was surprised when he grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop.

"Sara, let me handle this."

She shook off his hand and turned to face him.

"Not a chance." She replied. "She didn't ask for you, Jim. You don't even like the woman."

"It might be best if you don't deal with her yourself right now. With the way you're feeling, it might just make things worse." Jim shrugged. "You've never really met her; she... has a way of making people feel uncomfortable."

"You mean she makes _you_ feel uncomfortable." Sara pointed out. "Look, she came here to see me and if it gets me one step closer to finding out where Grissom is then I'm all for speaking to the woman." She spun away from him and rushed off again.

Realizing he wasn't going to get his way, all Jim could do was follow after her and hope for the best.

* * *

There were a dozen or so people in the waiting area when they arrived. Although Sara had really only seen the woman from a distance before, she unerringly made her way towards her. Even dressed in relatively conservative clothing, there was no mistaking the presence of Heather Kessler.

"Ms. Kessler?" Sara approached and held out her hand. "I'm Sara Sidle."

The dominatrix stood and clasped the offered hand. "Call me Heather, after all, I've heard so much about you and, I'm sure you've heard all kinds of stories about me." She turned to acknowledge Jim. "Captain Brass, I understand you've been busy trying to find me."

Jim cut right to the chase. "We want to know where Grissom is!"

Sara rolled her eyes at his bluntness.

"I'm sure you do." Heather turned her back on Brass, effectively dismissing him and addressed Sara again. "I was hoping you'd agree to speak to me, however I would prefer it if we didn't do it here."

With a glance towards Jim, Sara agreed at once. "Where shall I meet you?"

"Actually, my vehicle is just outside. We might as well both take that and I can drop you back here afterwards if that's what you want."

"Sara..." Brass stepped in.

"I'm handling it, Jim. Remember?"

Brass raised his hands in surrender before addressing Heather. "When you go back to wherever it is you've got him hidden, just remind him about our rule, will you?"

Heather turned quickly. "Ah yes, Grissom told me about your rule. I wonder if you can recall exactly what it was you said to him."

Surprised by the question, Brass struggled to think back. "Um... I think I told him that if he did or said anything to harm Sara, he'd have me to answer to; why?"

"That was just a few days after the assault on him, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, we were in the car heading to my house." Jim tried to remember. "I believe it was the day he left the hospital."

Heather stare turned icy. "Are you aware that you essentially brainwashed him?"

"What?" Jim confusion was clear. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Heather smile held more than a hint of smugness. "You told Grissom what you would do if he hurt Sara, correct?"

"Yes, there were a couple of times that I didn't like the tone he used when he spoke to her; I just gave him a friendly warning."

"A perfectly harmless thing to do under normal circumstances but, in this case, Grissom was suffering from a severe concussion; he was in pain, not thinking clearly and would have been very vulnerable to suggestion. What you actually succeeded in doing was to implant the belief that he _would_ do something to harm her."

"I never meant it that way."

"The way that you meant it isn't important; the way that Grissom took it is." Heather pointed out. She turned towards Sara again. "How's your wrist?"

"My wrist?" Now it was Sara's turn to be confused. "It's fine."

"May I?" Heather reached out and took Sara's hand, pushing her shirtsleeve up as she did. "Was this an accident?"

"Of course it was!"

Jim stepped closer to see what they were talking about. He looked at the fading bruises that still encircled Sara's wrist and raised his eyes to meet hers. "What happened?"

"Gil was having a nightmare and grabbed my arm; I couldn't break his grip and had to wake him up." She shrugged it off. "That's all; it certainly wasn't done on purpose."

Heather looked at Brass. "Do you believe her?"

"Sure, Sara wouldn't lie about something like that and I can't really see Grissom as the abusive type..." He suddenly understood what Heather had been talking about. "Only I gave him the idea that I thought he was. Shit! I'm sorry, Sara, I never meant for him to take it that way."

Sara closed her eyes and raised her hand to massage her forehead. "So, on top of everything else, he's had that going around his head as well." She opened her eyes to see Heather watching her. "I told him that night that it was accidental; that I knew he'd never have done it deliberately."

"I think he needs to hear that again, Sara. Grissom is still experiencing symptoms of that injury; logically, he knows it was an accident but there's some part that's telling him it wasn't." She rose, preparing to go. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Sure." She stood and turned to Jim. "Tell Catherine I'll speak to her when I get back."

"I really am sorry Sara; I had no idea that would happen."

Sara smiled sadly. "It's alright, you couldn't have known."

Brass watched as the two women exited the building. He shook his head, mad at himself for not realizing how much of what had happened was actually down to him. With the trouble he'd obviously instigated with his 'rule', it was probably a wonder that Grissom hadn't disappeared sooner. Add to that the way he'd acted towards him at the restaurant and Jim knew he had reason to feel guilty. Unfortunately, he couldn't undo the damage he's already caused but he was now determined to make amends.

* * *

They didn't speak in the car; Heather preferring to wait until they were at their destination, Sara so lost in her thoughts she never even noticed the silence. She did register the fact that they were traveling in a BMW sedan and not the Lexus SUV though.

The drive was short; after traveling only a few blocks from the lab, Heather swung into an empty parking space on Flamingo Road opposite The Platinum.

"I've been told they make very good coffee." She gestured towards the small café they were parked in front of. "Would here he alright with you?"

"Yes... yes, this is fine." The drive over had allowed Sara to calm down again but even though she was desperate for information, she was now almost afraid to hear it.

Both woman entered the café and chose a table in the corner near the window. After ordering, they watched the slow procession of morning rush-hour traffic as it made its way along the busy road. Unable to stand the atmosphere any longer, Sara broke the silence.

"How's his hand?"

"Cuts and bruises, that's all." Heather informed her. "It will be painful for a day or two, especially using his crutches."

"I'm surprised it wasn't broken, God knows he punched the dashboard with enough force." Sara looked up into Heather's face. "Did he tell you why he left?"

Heather nodded. "He told me some of it. Breakfast at the restaurant for your birthday, wanting it to go well for you but feeling more and more cornered the longer it went on."

"Things got out of hand." Sara shook her head in frustration. "I can't really explain what happened. Catherine was fussing over him then Jim started up and before I knew it, I'd joined in. Everything just seemed to come to a head."

"He understands that." Heather told her. "Now that he's had time to think he doesn't blame anyone but himself for what occurred at that restaurant. He needed to take a step back, to catch his breath; I think things were just going too fast for him."

"I did wonder if it was too soon but he was adamant that everything would be fine."

Their coffees arrived and they took a moment to drink.

"Does he know he was followed from the restaurant?"

"No, I assure you, if he did he would have let you know he was okay himself. As it was, I only learned about it when I went home a few hours ago and was given the message that Detective Brass left for me."

"So Gil doesn't know yet?"

"He doesn't have a clue; he was asleep when I left. I made the decision to come and see you, to assure you that he's fine."

Sara nodded slowly. "Did he tell you why he went to the McCarran?"

"From what he said, he was just in the area and saw it as a safe place to park. When I picked him up he wasn't even sure how long he'd been there."

"Almost five hours." Sara told her. "We got the security footage. He slept in the car for the first three and half hours then he slammed his fist into the dashboard, locked everything inside and headed to the terminal."

"He knew as soon as he locked the car door that he'd done the wrong thing."

"And yet he called you and nor me; what does that say about our relationship?"

"He called me as a friend, Sara, nothing else." Heather tried to reassure the younger woman. "He'd just left a situation where he was in conflict with almost everyone he cares about; he was looking for help from someone who was not directly involved."

Heather kept a close eye on the Sara as she spoke.

"There's also the fact that a part of him is convinced that because of what's going on with him just now, you'd be better off without him."

"That's ridiculous!" Sara almost slammed her cup back down on the table. "Does he seriously think that after waiting all those years for him to finally come to his senses that I'd just walk away now?"

Heather looked at the woman sitting opposite her and smiled.

"Being able to decide quickly and correctly who you can and cannot trust is a skill I've had to learn in order to survive in my profession." She stared directly into Sara's eyes. "I'm certain that I can trust you but can you say the same about me?"

Sara was confused at the sudden change of topic but didn't hesitate to answer. "Grissom trusts you implicitly and he doesn't do that blindly; I don't think I have anything to worry about. Yes, I believe I can trust you."

"Would you trust me to make the right decision as to what was best for Grissom just now?"

"Yes."

The pleased expression that graced the other woman's face let Sara know she had said the right thing. She watched as Heather reached down and retrieved her purse. Removing a room keycard, she held it out for Sara to take. She nodded to the hotel across the street.

"He's in 1902."

"He's at The Platinum?"

"Try not to make too much noise as you go in; with some luck he's still asleep."

"Aren't you coming up with me?"

"No, I think the two of you can handle this yourselves." Heather told her as she picked up her car keys. "Just remember, he's had time to think now and he's made up his mind as to what it is he has to do; as long as you accept his decision, I don't think there'll be any further trouble.

Minutes later, Sara stood outside the café and watched as Heather drove off. She had been determined to dislike the woman but, instead, found herself admiring her. Turning, she looked upwards and counted the floors of the hotel until she reached the nineteenth. Then, trying desperately to quell the butterflies that swarmed in her stomach, she crossed the road and headed towards the building.

TBC

**A/N:** A quick shoulder update for those that have asked about it: six weeks post-surgery and I _finally_ got rid of the shoulder immobilizer. I'm stuck with a normal sling, which I've been told I'll have to wear until mid-January thanks to the amount of damage that had to be repaired, but at least life is a bit easier now.

Physiotherapy is going well, although what they call 'gentle range-of-motion exercises" I prefer to think of as the perfect opportunity to improve my four-letter vocabulary and it doesn't look like I'll be able to start any strengthening exercises for at least another month and a half.

Back to the story: this should have been up a couple of days ago but it's just been one of those weeks and I seem to be behind in everything just now. Hopefully there won't be quite as big a gap with the next chapter.


	27. Chapter 27

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 27**

Opening the door to 1902, Sara looked around and realized instantly that what Heather had called a room was, in fact, a suite.

Walking round the main room, the first thing she noticed was a laptop computer set up on the dining table; Heather had made passing reference to having supplied Grissom with everything he needed and it looked as though she'd been telling the truth. On the floor beside the sofa were plastic bags from various clothing stores and, after checking the contents, Sara could see that _everything_ included a new wardrobe. Throwing her jacket and phone on the coffee table, she decided to explore further.

Having checked out the bedroom and bathroom to her right, Sara stood in the fully stocked kitchen and looked out over the main room and through the glass sliding doors to the expansive terrace with views out to the mountains. She opened the refrigerator and withdrew a bottle of soda then opened it and sipped as she turned to look at the only door she hadn't opened yet. There was nowhere else for him to be. She made her way to it and quietly eased it open. The lights were off and the blinds closed but enough light made its way into the room for her to know that she'd found him.

Sara could just make him out; sound asleep on top of the king size bed. She moved to the side of the bed and studied him. The only difference appeared to be the adhesive dressing that covered the knuckles of his right hand; apart from that, he looked no different to the last time she'd seen him. He was dead to the world and she realized that, although he had slept since his ordeal, he certainly hadn't slept like this.

Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, he was lying on his back in the middle of the bed, left arm draped across his stomach and right thrown out towards her. She watched fascinated as the fingers nearest her twitched; dreams, she decided, not nightmares.

Sara reached over and softly ran her hand through his hair; he never even moved. She looked around the darkened room and noticed a chair in the corner. Pulling it closer, she was about to sit when she heard her phone ring in the other room. Hoping it wouldn't disturb him, she hurried to answer it, unsurprised to see it was Brass.

"He's fine, Jim." She assured him. "He's asleep in the other room."

"So, you going let us know where it is that Madam Lash has him hidden?"

Sara cringed at the sarcasm in his voice. She could understand that some of it came from the past antagonism between the two but surely even he could see that Heather had just been trying to help and protect a friend.

"No Jim, I'm not." Sara told him. "I'm sorry but until I've had a chance to speak to Gil I don't think it's my place to tell anyone where he is."

There was a pause before Brass spoke.

"Okay... when will you be back?"

"I don't know; it's all up to Grissom." Sara was firm. "There was a reason he took off remember? He has control of this, not me."

"So, what?" Brass asked tiredly. "The rest of us just sit around twiddling our thumbs until he gets his act together? There's a criminal investigation going on here, Sara; it's one thing when you don't know where the bad guy is but when your victim does a disappearing act as well, it makes things a _little_ difficult."

"I know that, Jim." She understood his frustration. "Look, do you think we could finish this conversation later. I haven't even had a chance to speak to him yet; I don't know what he wants to do."

"Fine." Brass sighed, realizing there was no point in pushing further. "What will I tell Catherine? Are you coming in to work tonight?"

"I don't think so. I really don't want to leave Grave shorthanded again but I don't think I'm going to be much use to Catherine until this whole thing with Gil is settled. She kept offering me more time off; I guess you better tell her I'm taking it now." She had a sudden thought. "Jim? Be careful going back to the townhouse alone, won't you?"

"Don't worry, Mom; I'll be fine." Brass replied. "Take care of him, Sara and I'll see you when you're both ready."

"Thanks, Jim. I'll let you know what's happening." Hanging up, Sara turned off her phone and tossed it back on the table. Going back into the kitchen, she retrieved her soda and carried it through to the bedroom. It was as she was sitting down that he spoke.

"You sound tired."

She waited a moment before responding.

"That's not entirely surprising, considering I've spent the past day scared out of my wits."

"I'm sorry I put you through that; I really didn't mean to."

The room was silent, neither of them sure what to say. Finally Grissom spoke.

"I take it you've seen Heather."

"Yes, she came to see me at the lab." Sara couldn't quite keep the anger from her tone. "She told me how you were and where you were, which is something I think you should have done yourself."

When he remained silent, Sara took a few breaths and tried to calm down. "Did you know that you were followed from the restaurant?"

He pulled himself up until he sat with his back to the headboard. "What?"

She filled him in on the day's events, ending with Heather's arrival at the lab.

"If I'd known Sara, I promise you, I would have let you known that I was alright." He wiped his hand across his lower face. "Damn, that would have been a good chance to get him too."

"Forget whoever it was that followed you, Gil, right at this moment that's not important." She felt the anger and worry of the past day rise to the surface again. "You disappeared without a word to anyone. If Jim hadn't seen Heather's SUV in her driveway and then recognized it on the security tape, we still wouldn't have a clue as to where you'd gone. Were you even planning on getting in touch?"

He reached over and flicked on the bedside light so he could see her properly.

"Of course I was, Sara. I just... I needed to breathe." He struggled to explain. "I felt as though I'd been backed into a corner and I couldn't see a way out. But the worst thing was that I knew I'd done it to myself."

She started to speak but he stopped her.

"I never should have taken those tablets; I know that. It was a dumb thing to do; Jim told me that at the restaurant and Heather backed him up later when I told her about it. I'd hoped they'd take the edge of the pain long enough to get through the meal."

"I'm sorry that I put you in that position." Contrite, Sara moved to sit on the side of the bed. "I had a feeling that it was too soon."

"I'm not going to blame anyone else. I should have had enough sense to go home in the first place." He shrugged. "The general consensus seems to be that I acted like an idiot; who am I to argue with that."

"Well, we didn't exactly help matters though, did we?"

"Look, we were all tired; I understand that but Catherine and Brass... I don't know." He tried to organize his thoughts. "Catherine suddenly morphed into my mother and Jim developed some weird puritanical streak and seemed hell-bent on getting me in trouble." He turned to look directly at her. "I realized at that point how little control I had over what was happening around me. I had to take some of that back."

"So you took off."

"Not from you; that was never my intention." He assured her. "But I needed time to think; about what I was doing and what I needed to do. I knew when I woke up at the airport that I had to start thinking clearly and I wasn't sure I could do that at home."

"And that's why you called Heather." Sara dropped her head so he couldn't see her face.

"Yes." He reached over and took hold of her chin, lifting her head until he could look into her eyes. "I know you think I should have called you but, in a way, you're part of the problem."

Sara tried to pull back but he held firm.

"Honey, please let me explain." He let go of her chin and grabbed her hand. "Another thing I realized when I sat in that car is that I'm not the only victim here; you've had your life turned upside down as well. We went from living a very private life together to being thrust head-first into the middle of a soap opera."

"I'm not the important one here at the moment, Gil; you are." Sara stated.

"No, _we_ are what's important." He insisted, entwining his fingers with hers. "If I was still on my own and this happened I'd no doubt deal with it the way I used to deal with everything else: bury myself in work and ignore it, but it's not just me anymore. I can't afford to do that; there's too much to lose now. I need to take back the control I've lost, Sara."

"Heather mentioned that you'd made a decision about something." She tried unsuccessfully to smother a yawn.

"When did you last sleep?" He asked, suddenly noticing how tired she appeared.

"When did I last know that you were safe?" She countered with a grin.

"Okay, I deserved that." He slid to the side of the bed, grabbed his crutches and stood up. "Wait here."

"Where are you going?"

"First I'm going to find you something to change into; you can't sleep in what you're wearing; then, you're going to take a shower and go to bed for a couple of hours. We can continue this later."

He made his way out to the lounge and rummaged through the shopping bags until he found a t-shirt. Deciding it would have to do, he tucked it into the waistband of his shorts and went to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water before returning to the room. She was asleep when he got back. Trying to be as quiet as possible, Grissom removed her shoes and moved her fully onto the bed then went back around and sat on the other side. Opening the bedside drawer, he took three pills from the replacement medications Heather had arranged for him and downed them with some of the water then lay down and turned to stare at the woman laying beside him.

He hadn't been entirely surprised to wake up and find her in the room with him and, if he was honest, he was grateful to Heather for deciding it was in his best interests to have Sara here with him. It had also saved him from having to contact her himself. Even though it had been his intention to call her later today, Heather had laid enough groundwork for him that things had gone smoother than they probably otherwise would have without her intervention.

Moving closer to her, he wrapped one arm around her waist; she stirred at the movement.

"Griss?"

"I'm here, honey."

"Heather told Jim what he'd done to you with his rule; he feels terrible about putting you through that."

"He was just trying to protect you, Sara; I'm certainly not going to hold any grudges over that."

"You'd never hurt me, you know that, right?"

"I know." He told her. "I went over all this with Heather."

Sara yawned again and snuggled closer.

"You will be here when I wake up, won't you?"

He gave a quick laugh. "I'll be here, honey; I'm not going anywhere."

Grissom felt her relax again and sighed. He could only hope she wouldn't accuse him of lying when he told her he was about to leave town.

* * *

"You're what?" Sara slammed her cup down on the kitchen bench top.

"After I see Gary Morgan at the hospital on Thursday I'm leaving Vegas for a while." Sitting at the dining table opposite the kitchen, Grissom pushed the laptop out of the way, leaving a folder sitting in front of him.

"Where are you planning on going? For how long?"

"It's all part of taking back control." He explained. "I spent some time on the internet yesterday; I came across someone who knew Debbie Marlin in high school. I've been in touch with her but there's only so much I can do via email; I need to go and meet with her."

She leveled him with a stare. "We managed to get into the computer you were using at home; we know that you've been trying to work the case."

"Well then, you might as well know I'm fairly sure I've found the guy that made the branding iron too. He's another reason I have to go."

"We have no idea who this man is or, for that matter, where he is." Sara pointed out. "You admit yourself that you can't always think clearly at the moment, should you really be trying this just now?"

"I didn't start this game, Sara; I got dragged into it against my will." She could see the anger and determination written clearly on his face. "But I refuse to play any longer than I have to."

"What does that mean exactly?"

"The man behind all of this might be here in Vegas but I don't think the answers are. I _need_ to do this; I _need_ to take back what he took from me."

She thought for a moment. "I could come with you."

He shook his head. "No, that wouldn't work; it's better that you stay here. As long as I know that you've got the guys looking out for you it's one less thing for me to worry about. I want you to stay here at the hotel though, Jim too; I don't think it's safe to for anybody to stay at the townhouse just now."

Sara looked around the large room. "Um, I hate to ask, but how much is all this costing; the rates here aren't exactly cheap."

"Heather knows some people; she arranged for the suite." He gestured at the bags that still sat by the sofa. "She went out to buy me a change of clothes and came back with half the store, same thing goes for the computer. I got the impression she was enjoying herself; I guess it's been a while since she had anyone to buy for. And don't forget the Lexus that's parked downstairs for my use." He shrugged. "I'll repay her of course; I just may have to take out a bank loan to do it."

Sara walked over and sat opposite him. "So, Jim and I get to live it up here while you go off on your vigilante mission?"

"It's not a vigilante mission, Sara." He assured her. "But there are a couple of things I need you to take care of for me while I'm gone."

"Such as?"

I need to make sure that the only person that gets blamed for taking those computer files from the lab is me."

"And what?" She asked. "Hodges gets away with it?"

"Yes." Grissom didn't have to ask how she knew who helped him. "He never would have done it if I hadn't bullied him into it. I told him at the time that I'd protect him and I meant it. The man maybe annoying but he knows his job and he does it well. We have enough trouble holding on to good staff; if Ecklie finds out it was Hodges that accessed those files he'll fire him and the Lab can't afford to lose him."

"Okay, what was the other thing?"

He opened the folder on the table and withdrew an envelope, holding it out for her to take. "I'm giving you power-of-attorney; I want you to put the townhouse on the market. I can't go back, Catherine was right; I do find it weird there and, being away for a couple of days made me realize that it was one of the things that have been pulling me down."

"Are you really sure?" Sara asked as she took the envelope. "It's been your home for so long."

"Do whatever you have to do to make it saleable; the sooner it's gone the better." He squeezed her hand. "It's time for a new start. The next place will be _our_ home, not just mine."

"Okay, I'll ask the guys to come by on the weekend and we'll start getting it ready." She looked at her watch. "It's almost time for dinner. What do you feel like eating?"

He ignored her question to ask one of his own. "So, you're okay with me going?"

"Honestly? Not really." She stood and picked up her coffee cup. "But, I suppose by the time Thursday rolls around I'll have gotten used to the idea." She headed to the kitchen.

"There is something else, Sara. Heather will be dropping off a couple of things that I'm going to need while I'm away but, one thing she can't get for me is my wallet and ID."

Sara shrugged. "There shouldn't be any problem getting them from the lab. They're not evidence so I imagine Catherine probably locked them in your desk; I can get them for you before you leave. What about your phone? It should be there too."

"No, I won't need it; that's all under control." He told her. "Heather and I discussed it when she was here; she's arranging a new phone in her name for me. The two of you will be the only ones with the number. I have no problem with getting in touch with the team when I get back, but while I'm away, the last thing I need is to have Catherine and Jim phoning me at all hours."

Sara looked at him, curiously. "So, what else is Heather supplying you with?"

"Nothing much." He brushed of her question. "The phone, a couple of photos, a few other things; nothing exciting."

She watched him from across the room and briefly considered pressing for a more precise answer but decided that pushing at this point would probably do more harm that good. Letting it slide; she returned to her original question.

"So, what are we having for dinner?"

* * *

For the next two days they barely left the room, venturing downstairs only twice; once to buy a few changes of clothes for Sara and again when they were informed that a package had been left at reception for Grissom. Carrying it upstairs; Sara was well aware that the weight it contained pointed to more than a cell phone and a few photographs but stood by her resolve not to push.

He showed her the first of the photos; a print taken from a website showing a young Debbie Marlin posing beside a friend at a party. It wasn't the two girls that had caught Grissom's attention though, it was the three males seen in the background; both Beck brothers and another youth. Four photos in all; all of Debbie and her friend, all taken at the same party and all showing the three teenage boys. As Grissom pointed out, it may be nothing but, for the moment, it was all he had to go on.

Sara watched as he carefully packed the photographs into the outside pocket of the backpack he would be taking with him. She pretended not to notice when he hurriedly stuffed the package from Heather deep down inside under his clothes.

* * *

The hospital appointment went well; x-rays of his ankle and thigh showed that both were stable and already showing signs of healing. The stitches were removed from his face and mouth and, with the bruising slowly beginning to disappear; he was beginning to look more like his old self. From the hospital, they drove directly to the Crime Lab so Sara could retrieve Gil's wallet and then pick up the Mercedes to drive it home; she planned on having Brass drive her back in for the night's shift.

"You're sure you're up to this?" Sara asked as she sat in the passenger seat of the Lexus.

"I'm positive, honey." Grissom chuckled as he took her hand. "Besides, you heard Morgan; the best thing I can do now is to get back to my usual routine, and that's precisely what I'm going to do."

"I'm not sure Gary Morgan really meant you to drive all over Nevada doing it though." She looked down at their joined hands. "I agreed to this because I know how important it is to you but I do have one condition."

Gil frowned slightly. "Go on."

"I need to know where you are and what you're doing." She told him. "I want at least a text message morning and night so I know you're okay."

He smiled at her. "I guess I can find the time to do that."

They sat quietly, both aware that the time had arrived for him to go. She checked her watch. "It's almost time for Day shift to finish."

"Yeah, I better get going; with rush-hour traffic the way it is nowadays, it'll probably take me half the night to get out of Vegas if I wait much longer.

Sara got out of the car and walked around to the driver's window. She looked up at the sky, noticing rain clouds moving overhead.

"Promise me you'll split the drive in half." She shifted her gaze to meet his. "I don't think you're up to a five hour non-stop drive just yet, especially if it's raining."

A smile tugged at his lips. "I'll take it easy, I promise." He started the SUV and put it in gear. "I'll keep in touch."

Sara stuck her head in the window for a kiss. "You better." As she was pulling back she saw the lab door swing open and Conrad Ecklie walk out, briefcase in hand. "Damn, just what we didn't need."

Grissom turned to see what had caught her attention.

"Its okay, Sara." He said, giving her a wink. "I can handle this."

Ecklie paused as the large Lexus rolled to a stop beside him. Seeing who the driver was he took a step back.

"Do I need to duck?"

Gil smiled. "No, Conrad. Actually I wanted to apologize about that... well, about my behavior in general really."

"Well, I certainly wasn't expecting to hear that." Ecklie moved closer to the idling SUV, getting a better look at Grissom. "You're looking more like yourself, Gil. Your disappearance seems to have done you some good."

"It has; I'm feeling a lot better." He stuck his hand out the window. "So, is my apology accepted? For old times sake?"

"Yes, I guess so." Ecklie took the proffered hand and shook. "Look, since you're obviously doing better than you were the last time you were here; why don't you stop by my office some time in the next couple of days and we can discuss things properly."

"You know, I'd love to but I'm going to be out of town for a little while; it's going to have to wait." Grissom debated for a moment about what he was about to say. "There is one thing you could do for me though, if you wouldn't mind: make sure Sara doesn't work too hard while I'm away; you know what she can be like."

Ecklie looked over to where Sara was standing watching them. He nodded his head. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, Conrad. I'll let you know when I get back and we can have that meeting."

Shifting his foot from the brake to the accelerator, Grissom thrust his arm out the window in a wave to Sara and quickly drove out of the car park. Ecklie walked over to join Sara.

"He's certainly seems a lot better than he was." He commented as he stood beside her.

"You know, this time, I really think he is." Sara watched as the Lexus disappeared around the corner.

"So, he's going off by himself for a while; personal business I assume."

"Yes." Sara nodded. "It's definitely personal."

TBC


	28. Chapter 28

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 28**

The rain that had threatened in Vegas caught up with Grissom just south of Ash Springs. After spending ten minutes trying to navigate through what seemed to be an almost impenetrable wall of water, he finally admitted defeat and pulled into the next roadhouse he came to. Unwilling to risk either his neck or the plaster cast on his leg making a dash for the diner's door, the only thing he could do was wait in the SUV and hope the downpour wouldn't last long. Half an hour later, the rain stopped as suddenly as it had started and he decided to take the opportunity to some food before continuing his journey.

Sitting inside, waiting for his order to be served, Grissom stared into his coffee cup and tried to make some sense of the thought that had been taunting him since waking that morning: why did the driver of the Pathfinder wait until they were at the restaurant to make a move? If he'd been following the Mercedes all night then, surely, it made more sense to have done something at the mineshaft. The only logical conclusion Gil could come up with was that he hadn't been the original target, and if it hadn't been him, that left only one other person he could have been after.

Grissom checked his watch and then opened his cell phone and dialed.

"Brown."

"Warrick, it's Grissom."

"Hey, Griss. I didn't recognize the number on caller ID." The joy evident in Warrick's voice at hearing from his boss made Grissom realize just what he'd put the members of his team through over the past few weeks. "How you doing?"

"I'm fine, feeling a lot better." Grissom told him. "Look, I need you to do something for me."

"Sure, man. Anything."

"I'm going to be out of town for awhile; I need you to keep an eye on Brass. I don't think it was me that guy was going for the other day. I'm pretty sure he was actually following Jim, he just switched to me thinking I'd be an easier target."

"I'll do what I can, Griss, but unless we're at a scene together there's not a whole lot I can do. I guess Sara can keep an eye out at the townhouse but what about when he's at PD?"

"Sara won't be at the townhouse; neither will Jim for that matter." Grissom explained about The Platinum. "Security in the building is pretty tight; they'll probably both be safer there than anywhere else. As for PD; speak to Vartann, see what he suggests."

"I'm on it, Griss. I'm guessing you don't want me to say anything to Brass about this."

"Not for the moment, no. He already knows that he's on this guy's hit list; I don't think we need to stress him out any further."

"Alright if I let Nick in on this?" Warrick asked. "It'll be easier at our end if there are two of us are watching out."

"That's fine, Warrick but there's one more thing; unless it's an emergency, you don't know this number, okay? I have a feeling I'm in for a lecture from Catherine, Jim or, if I'm really lucky, both of them and I'd like to put that off for as long as possible."

Warrick chuckled. "You got it. So, you going to be away long?"

"Three or four days I guess. I should be able to do what I need to in that time." Grissom looked up as the waitress neared with his meal. "Got to go, Warrick, but since you're doing me a favor I'll do one for you in return."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Sara's back on shift tonight and she's going to be looking for volunteers to help with painting the townhouse. If I were you, I'd be ready with a plausible excuse before she gets there."

Deciding he'd done his good deed for the day, Grissom hung up before Warrick could reply. He thanked the waitress as she placed his plate in front of him and topped up his cup. He ate his burger quickly, anxious to get back on the road again.

Twenty minutes later, he drove out of the car park and continued north on US-93. Traffic had thinned out considerably and he made good time, arriving in Ely just after 11pm. Pulling in at the first motel he came across, he registered for the night, found his room and had just enough energy to send a text message to Sara advising her of his location before falling into a deep sleep on the double bed.

* * *

Sara was about to enter the Trace lab when her phone beeped informing her of an incoming message. For the moment she ignored it; this was the first time since shift began that Hodges had been alone in his lab and she meant to take advantage of it. He was bent over a microscope as she approached.

"Hodges."

He instantly stiffened before slowly raising his head to look at her.

"Ah... hi Sara, it's good to see you back." He pushed his chair back from the table attempting to look nonchalant but nothing could disguise the nervousness he was trying to hide. "Did you have a nice break?"

"I did, David, thanks for asking." She leaned against the doorframe, her relaxed manner just making Hodges more anxious.

"Um, is there something in particular I can do for you?" Sara was pleased to hear a slight tremor in his voice.

"I think you've done more than enough already, don't you?" Sara looked left and right to see if anyone was within earshot before moving further into the room. "I'm supposed to let you know that Grissom is taking all the blame for the files that were taken from the lab; there will be no mention of your involvement. As far as everyone is concerned, he came in and did it all himself."

Hodges audibly exhaled in relief; the worry had obviously been weighing on him.

"And, now that I've put your mind at rest on that score there's something else I want to let you know." He tried to edge back further as she moved closer. "If you ever do anything like that again, I'll report you myself. Never mind the danger you helped Grissom put himself in, there's also the little matter of jeopardizing the case should anyone find out what you did."

He opened his mouth to interject but shut it again as Sara glared at him.

"If you're about to come out with an excuse, I don't want to hear it. Helping Grissom leave the hospital the way you did was bad enough but handing over case files to a victim... surely even you can see how stupid that was?"

"He bullied me into it!" Hodges blustered. "There really wasn't anyway I could say no; he's my boss."

"That's not going to cut it, David." Sara told him calmly. "You know what happened to him. You dealt with him at the hospital; can you truthfully say that Grissom was acting normally at that time?"

"Well, no." He admitted. "Not really."

"And yet, you still went ahead and did what he wanted. Both times." She shook her head. "Well, you're getting away with it this time; Grissom told you he'd protect you and that's what he's going to do but just remember; _I_ never promised you anything."

Sara turned and walked out of the lab without looking back. Making her way to the break room, she grabbed a cup and filled it before joining Catherine at the table.

"Did Jim say when he expected to get back from Tonopah?" She asked as she took a sip.

Catherine looked up from the file she was reading. "I thought he'd be back by now; he was only going to show the guy there some photos to see if he could ID the buyer of the Pathfinder. Still, it is a six hour round trip; maybe he's taking it easy on the way back."

"That reminds me." Sara pulled out her cell phone. She read the message then closed her phone, putting it down on the table with slightly more force than she meant to.

"Trouble?"

"Not really, I should have expected it." Sara sighed. "When I asked Grissom to take things easy, I though he might stop half way to Ely and find a place to stay for the night but instead, it looks like he's done the whole trip in one go."

"Ely? When you said earlier that he'd gone up north for a couple of days I assumed you meant he'd gone to Fernley. Ely's on the other side of the state; what's he doing there?"

"I wouldn't mind knowing that myself." Jim Brass' voice came from the open doorway.

Turning, Sara smiled a welcome at him. "You're back."

"I could say the same about you." Jim returned her smile. "So, he's taken off again, huh?"

"Just for a few days." Sara told him. "There are a couple of people he needs to speak to and he thought it would be best to do it in person."

Jim looked at her tiredly. "I assume this has something to do with his 'investigation'."

"You know he was doing it, Jim." Sara pointed out. "You also know that nothing you or I say would have stopped him; he says that he needs to do this."

Brass helped himself to a cup of coffee and leaned against the bench as he drank it. "Is it really wise to let him wander around the state alone?"

"Well, first of all, I didn't 'let' him do anything; the last time I looked that's not how relationships work. Grissom is more than capable of making his own decisions and, before you say it; yes, I do know that the ones he's made recently haven't exactly been sensible but, having just spent a couple of days alone with him, I really don't think there's going to be a problem this time."

"I respect your judgment, Sara, I really do but there still the fact that he's wandering around up there without any backup; what if he asks the wrong question to the wrong person."

Sara smiled. "He's gone to see a guy in Ely who, by the looks of things, may have made the branding iron and then he's heading to Fernley to speak to a woman who had a couple of photos of Debbie Marlin up on her website. That's all but, if it makes you feel any better, I can tell you that Heather Kessler dropped a package off for him yesterday and, although I never saw all the contents, I pretty sure there was a gun in that bag. So, he does have some protection, Jim; I wouldn't worry too much about his ability to look out for himself."

Jim sat in the seat next to Catherine and sighed resignedly. "Okay, you win; I'm not getting into a fight with you over it. In fact, I'm so tired at the moment that I'm not even sure I care." Realizing what he'd just said, he quickly backpedaled. "That came out wrong; I honestly didn't mean it to sound the way it did."

"It's alright, Jim, we know what you meant." Catherine patted him on the arm. "How about telling us how your trip went?"

"Good, it looks like the drive may have been worthwhile after all." The change of subject gave Brass a second wind. "Frank Seymour's one of those people that has a busier life now than before he retired but I finally managed to get him to look through the Fernley High year books. He picked out Jason Beck straight away, said that he drove the other guy to the house and then waited while he they did the deal on the Pathfinder. He went through the books twice but couldn't give a positive ID on the buyer; however, he did pick out some possibles." He reached into his jacket for his notebook. "Considering I was showing him twenty year old photos, I think he did pretty well getting it down to five."

Jim flicked through the pages until he found the one he was after. Catherine grabbed her pen to write the names down as he read them out.

"Aaron Elders, John Hayden, Joseph Napier, Sean Tate and Scott Weller. Seymour wasn't willing to try and narrow it down any further and, to be fair to him; the five do look sort of similar." He put his notebook back in his pocket. "It might take a couple of days to run these guys down but at least now, we've got something concrete to work with."

Picking his cup up, Jim drained the contents and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"You need to go and get some sleep." Catherine said, watching him and noting the signs of exhaustion on his face.

"Yeah, you're right." Jim admitted. "I'm off tonight anyway; guess I'll head back to the townhouse and hit the sack."

"Um, Jim, your stuff's not at the townhouse anymore." Sara told him.

He gave her a confused look. "You're back five minutes and you've thrown me out already?"

"I was expecting you to be there when I drove the Mercedes home this afternoon; I was going to explain then. The townhouse is going on the market; Gil's finally admitted that he doesn't feel comfortable there anymore and he doesn't want either of us staying there either."

"Okay, I can understand that." Brass said. "So, you've packed up all my belongings and moved them... where?"

"The Platinum."

"The Platinum?" He looked at her in amazement. "I only know one place with that name and I hope that's not the place you mean because I sure as hell can't afford to take up residence there."

"It's alright, Jim. Heather pulled some strings and got the suite at a fantastic rate. There are two big bedrooms, fully-equipped kitchen; you'll love it."

"I don't know, Sara; I'm not really sure how it would look if anyone found out I was staying in a room paid for by a well-known dominatrix."

"Relax." Sara advised him. "I've had them swap the charges to my credit card; your reputation will remain well and truly intact." She stood up and looked at Catherine. "Alright if I take off for half an hour? Jim can drive me over to the hotel; I'll show him where everything is then walk back."

"That's fine." Catherine said, gathering her files together. "It's a slow night anyway but if anything comes up, you're only a few blocks away."

Sara turned to Brass. "I had the hotel run off another keycard for the suite for you; I'll just grab it from my locker and meet you in the car park."

Jim watched as Sara disappeared down the hallway and Catherine disappeared back into Grissom's office. With the room to himself, he pulled out his phone and ran through the list of names until he found the one he wanted.

The call was answered straight away. "Robbins."

"Hey Al, you got a minute."

"I'm just sitting here doing paperwork." The coroner told him. "I assume this is about Gil."

"You've heard he's on the move again?"

"Greg was in here a couple of hours ago. He mentioned Sara was back and filled me in on everything she said."

"I want your opinion." Jim said. "Is this a good sign or what?"

Robbins thought for a moment before replying. "It's hard to say without actually seeing him myself; I can only go on what I've heard. If what Sara said is correct then I'd say the signs are promising."

"I hear a 'but' in there." Brass told him.

"But, I did wonder if she was just seeing what she wanted to see or, more to the point, what Gil wanted her to see."

"Yeah, that crossed my mind too." Jim told him. "It's easy to believe everything's fine when you shut the world out for a while; which is what it sounds like those two were doing. It's when you let it back in that it has a nasty habit of kicking you in the teeth. So, what do you suggest, Al?" Do I go up there and drag him back?"

Robbins chuckled. "You know, as entertaining as that would be to see I really don't think it's going to be necessary. As long as he remembers his physical limitations at the moment, this trip of his might just do him some good."

"You think it's a good idea to have him roaming the state alone?"

"Actually, yes I do. Sara told the guys that Grissom said he 'needs' to do this and, as far as I'm concerned, that's the most promising statement he could have made. To me, using the word 'need' points to him having found a focus; he can direct his anger at a legitimate target instead of at himself or Sara or one of us."

"Okay." Brass conceded. "I can't say I'm entirely happy with things as they are but we'll play it by ear and see what happens."

"We've got to give him the benefit of the doubt, Jim." Al said. "We owe him that much and we'll just keep our fingers crossed that the improvements Sara saw in him were genuine."

Brass looked up in time to notice Sara returning from the locker room. Surprised at seeing him still in the break room, she smiled and held up the keycard in her hand.

"I hope to God they were, Al." Jim said as he returned Sara's smile. "Because if they weren't its going to be us that's left to pick up the pieces."

TBC

**A/N: **Finally got it up! I meant to post this before I left for the annual family get-together (you know the type; ten minutes in and you suddenly remember why all your favourite relatives are the dead ones). Anyway, I'm not going to apologise again, I feel like that's all I've been doing lately but I am going to make a concerted effort to get this back on some sort of schedule.


	29. Chapter 29

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 29**

Waking slowly, Grissom blindly reached over to the other side of the bed, feeling around for Sara's familiar form. Encountering nothing but the bedspread he had fallen asleep on top of, he opened one eye before shutting it quickly against the light that was streaming in through the open curtains. He carefully turned over onto his back and winced at the pain in his ankle as well as the headache that seemed to have taken up residence above his right eye.

Raising one arm and using it to block the glare, he squinted at his watch, amazed to see it was just past 9am. If everything went according to plan, he could finish up with Sam Mercer and be on the road to Fernley before lunch.

It was as he was pushing himself up that he realized how long he'd actually slept. His body had become so accustomed to four-hourly meds that he automatically woke around about the times they were due but last night he'd obviously been so exhausted he'd slept right through. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled his backpack up from the floor and searched through the pockets until he located his pills.

Shaking out the prescribed dosages, he swallowed the antibiotic then studied the two Vicodin tablets in his palm. Grissom had hoped to use his time away to cut down on his use of the painkiller but it certainly didn't look like he was going to be able to start that today. Downing the pills, he sat for a further five minutes in order to give them a chance to start working before he got up.

He grabbed some fresh clothes from the bag and was about to put it down again when he remembered Heather's package. Reaching down to the bottom of the bag, he pulled out the large padded envelope and upended it on the bed. He picked up the Smith & Wesson 9mm and the box of ammunition and carefully loaded the magazine before sliding the pistol back into its holster. He placed it on the bedside cabinet then turned his attention to the remaining box.

When he'd made the list of his requirements, he'd been unsure of Heather's ability to locate this particular piece of equipment but she'd assured him that, with her contacts, getting hold of it wouldn't be a problem. He scanned the instructions and was pleased to see that Heather had also included an ample supply of fresh batteries. Although he'd told her that he only wanted the item on the off-chance, he actually planned to put it to use as soon as he could arrange it. However, first he had to find out exactly who it was he was after and, in order to do that, he had to get moving.

After showering, he dressed and then experimented with the holster, finally coming to the conclusion that the only way he could have quick and easy access to the 9mm was to wear it on his left-hand side with the butt of the pistol to the front. Cross-drawing the weapon was awkward and would require practice to master but, at least this way, neither crutch got in the way.

After stowing the backpack in the Lexus, he grabbed his jacket off the backseat and shrugged into it, making sure the gun was well hidden by the material. He decided to pass on breakfast and ten minutes later, he'd settled the bill, entered the required address in the vehicle's GPS and was on his way. His destination was just on the northern outskirts of Ely.

Fifteen minutes later, Grissom pulled up outside a large industrial shed and made his way inside. The noise was enough to make him wish he'd stayed out by the car. Between the sound coming from the gas-fired forge and the metallic clanging of hammer on iron; he had no idea how anyone could think in here let alone concentrate enough to work.

The only occupant of the premises was bent over a large anvil in one corner of the building, his back to the entrance. Dressed in worn jeans and an old chambray shirt, he appeared to be in his mid to late sixties; he was currently supporting one end of a metal rod whilst shaping the other into a graceful curl. Grissom watched as the piece was thrust into a large barrel of water before being extracted and the cooling metal thoroughly examined. Appearing satisfied with his work; the artisan placed it down and had just reached for another rod when Gil decided to take advantage of the lowered noise level. He cleared his throat to announce his presence and watched in amazement as the man instantly spun to face him, the iron bar held menacingly above his head.

Slowly the arm holding the metal began to lower as the man took in his visitor's appearance and, obviously ironic judged him non-threatening. However, anger and tension were evident in his voice as he addressed the intruder.

"Good God, Almighty! What the hell do you think you're doing sneaking up on people like that?"

Gil smile at the irony; in his current condition, he didn't think he'd be able to sneak up on anyone.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to startle you." He felt his pockets for identification, annoyed to realize he'd left it in the SUV. "I'm looking for Sam Mercer."

Calmer now, the older man placed the bar down on the anvil. "That would be me." He looked Gil up and down before gesturing towards the far side of the building. "You look like you could do with a seat; come on back to the office."

Following Mercer into the small partitioned room, Grissom refused the offer of coffee as he took a seat then waited while Mercer filled a cup for himself and sat opposite, fixing Gil with a stare.

"I get the feeling you're not here to order a gate."

"No, I'm not." Grissom returned the man's gaze. "I'm from the Las Vegas Crime Lab; I'm hoping you'll be able to help me with a case we're working on at the moment."

Mercer's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I don't see what good I'd be to you; I haven't been anywhere near Vegas in years."

"You wouldn't have had to be." Grissom told him. "I've been trying to find the maker of a particular branding iron. I made enquiries with a couple of different places and two of them advised me to speak to you."

Mercer sat quietly sipping his coffee as Gil spoke.

"Most of the brands they make are machine manufactured; I emailed them photographs of the one I'm interested in and, according to them, that level of intricacy would require it to be made by hand. They both said that if you didn't make it you'd certainly be able to tell me who did."

Mercer put down his cup. "Let me guess; it's a butterfly."

Grissom tried to stop the smile but couldn't quite manage it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tracing he'd made of the butterfly shape.

Mercer took the proffered picture and, putting on a pair of glasses, studied it. "Yep, that's it alright. I tried to get the fellow to simplify it some but he wasn't budging. I told him I couldn't guarantee how clearly the brand would actually show up but he knew exactly what he wanted and I couldn't talk him round." He got up from the desk and headed for the door. "Give me a minute."

Returning seconds later, he handed Grissom a 6 inch square piece of wood. Taking it, Gil found himself looking at a burnt outline of the same butterfly picture.

"That's my initial test of the brand." Mercer told him. "I hadn't put any of the detail in yet but you can see it's the same one. I was sure that when all the smaller pieces were added he'd end up with a lot of blurring but, as I said, I couldn't get him to change it any."

The pleasure Grissom had felt moments earlier at finding the right blacksmith disintegrated as he looked at the wood he held. Staring at the image, he suddenly felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the small office. He vaguely heard Mercer continuing to talk and, after quickly pushing the wooden block onto the man's desk, forced himself to concentrate on what he was saying.

"He never did say what he wanted it for; I just assumed it was going to be an ornamental piece." Mercer said.

"No, it's been used as a brand." Gil pulled a photograph from his pocket and held it out to Mercer. "As you'll see, there's almost no blurring at all."

Taking the photo, Mercer glanced at it then pulled open a drawer and removed a pair of glasses. After putting them on, he examined the print carefully. Suddenly his eyes shot up to meet Grissom's.

"That's not animal flesh, is it?"

"No." Gil replied, feeling uncomfortable under the other man's gaze. He shifted restlessly in his seat. "No it's not."

Mercer looked down at the photo then back up at his visitor. Seeing a brief flash of white at the collar of Grissom's polo shirt, he put the pieces together.

"It's you!" Amazement was clear in the blacksmith's voice. "He used the damn thing on you, didn't he?"

Without saying a word, Gil reached up and unbuttoned his shirt. Pulling the dressing from his chest, he held the collar open for Mercer to see.

"Holy shit!" Mercer was out of his chair and crouched in front of Grissom in seconds. Careful not to touch the wound, he examined the partially-healed burn that was now exposed. "He did that to you?"

"To me and at least one other person that I know of." Self-conscious now, Grissom carefully buttoned his shirt over the wound; a fresh dressing would have to wait. "Believe it or not, I'm the lucky one; he killed the other guy."

Standing back up, Mercer got a closer look at Gil's face and the film of perspiration that covered it. "Are you alright? You're as white a sheet."

Grissom shrugged of the man's question. "I'm fine; it's just a little warm in here."

Mercer nodded slowly, not entirely convinced that that was the problem. "Let me get you a cold drink; I won't be long."

As he left the room, Grissom leant forward resting his head in his hands. He needed to get himself under control; there was no way he was going to be able to do this if he freaked out at every little piece of evidence he came across. Closing his eyes, he slowed his breathing and began counting. He made it to eighteen before he heard Mercer return but kept going until he reached twenty-five.

Feeling somewhat better, Gil raised his head and sat upright. Noticing a glass of water on the desk in front of him, he reached for it and took a drink.

"Sorry about that." He gave Mercer an embarrassed smile.

"Don't apologize to me." Mercer shrugged. "I'm only sorry I made the damn thing."

Grissom placed the now empty glass back down.

"None of it's your fault." He noticed the wooden block was nowhere to be seen. Somehow, that only made him feel worse.

"Are they going to be able to fix that up for you?" Mercer gestured towards Gil's chest as he leaned back in his seat.

"They were talking about skin grafts." Grissom told him. "I wasn't comfortable with the doctor that was handling things so I refused treatment. I'll find a surgeon I trust and get it done eventually but the leg's my priority at the moment."

"Well, the bastard may not have killed you but it looks like he gave it a good shot." Mercer commented as he kept an eye on his visitor.

"Yeah, he did." Grissom ran his hand over his face, wiping the last of the sweat away. It was as he lowered the hand that he realized it was shaking. Mercer noticed it too.

Without saying a word, he opened his bottom drawer and removed a bottle of bourbon, pouring and inch or so into Gil's glass as well as his own cup.

"Get that down you." He ordered as he picked up the glass and held it out to his visitor.

Grissom shook his head in refusal. "Thanks for the thought but I can't; I'm on medication."

"I'm not advising you to drink the whole bottle." Mercer was persistent. "You need something to settle your nerves; this'll do it."

Already mortified by his own behavior, Gil didn't want to make things worse by arguing with a witness. Taking the glass, he took a sip then attempted to get things back on track.

"You remember the man who placed the order then?"

"Oh yeah, couldn't forget him." Mercer said as he opened one of the desk drawers and removed an order book. "He phoned me first of all to see if I could do it for him; as you said, he'd been turned down by the other places he'd tried."

Mercer flicked through the book until he reached the page he was after.

"Most branding irons nowadays are made by those bigger concerns; all electric tools and a quick turnaround. Sure they can do it quicker for you but, more often than not, they can't afford to take the time to do, what could be considered, a 'fussy' piece; which is why your boy was sent to me."

Draining the contents of his cup, Mercer leaned back in his chair, obviously settling in for the rest of the day.

"Now, I mostly do large decorative pieces; gates and the like but it's nice to work on smaller things every so often and I like to know that I can still beat those big guys at something."

"So, he placed the order over the phone?" Grissom asked, placing his glass back on the desk and hoping Mercer wouldn't notice how much liquor was left in it.

Sam checked the book "Yep, four months ago. He faxed through the butterfly picture and at the same time I had him send me written confirmation of the order."

"What was the name?" Reaching into his pocket, Gil pulled out a small notebook and pen.

Mercer smiled. "Well, he told me when he called that his name was Sullivan and that was the name he used on the letter he sent too."

Casually Sam poured another couple of fingers of bourbon into his cup, frowning when he saw Grissom's almost untouched glass.

"When we discussed the price, I'd told him that I was going to need a deposit before I could start but, when the fax came through he hadn't put down a credit card number so I had to call him back. I should have known then that he was trouble." Mercer shook his head ruefully. "Anyway, he says he wants to pay cash but he's too far away to drop by and pay me just now and he doesn't have a checkbook. It wasn't until I told he was going to have to find someone else to deal with that he gave me the card number. Name on the card was Tate; Sean Tate"

"And the payment went through?" Grissom asked. "It was a valid number?"

"Oh yeah." Mercer nodded. "When he and his friend turned up here to pick up the iron, he paid the balance with that card too; there was no problem with it."

"He could have just been using someone else's card?" Gil suggested as he wrote down both names.

"Oh, no." Mercer was adamant. "Apart from the fact that he signed the authorization as Tate, I also heard his friend call him Sean a couple of times when the pair of them were here."

"What about this friend?" Grissom was feeling better now that they were finally down to business. "Did you get a name for him? Description?"

Mercer closed his eyes and tipped his head back as he tried to remember. "He was around the same age as Tate; I'd put him around 32, maybe a year or two older. White, solid build, his hair was that sort of dirty blonde color."

Gil was quite certain he knew who Mercer was describing.

"Height?"

"Um... 6 foot max; no taller." Sam opened his eyes and looked over at Grissom. "If I remember correctly Tate called him Jason. Nasty piece of work if you ask me; had a real attitude about him."

Grissom squeezed his eyes shut as memories flooded back; being unable to dodge the fist that greeted him as he opened his front door, having his head slammed repeatedly into the granite bench top, breaking free and running for the door only to be met by an unmasked Jason Beck and the beating that followed.

"It doesn't matter now; he's dead." To Gil the voice he heard sounded strange, almost detached and it took a moment before he registered that it was his own. Opening his eyes again, he met the concerned ones of Sam Mercer.

"I'm no expert but I really don't think you should be doing this." The blacksmith stood and picked up Gil's glass. He held it out to his guest as he took a seat on the corner of the desk. "Finish that."

Automatically taking the glass, Grissom swallowed the contents; breathing out slowly as he felt the burn of the alcohol going down. Putting the empty glass back on the desk, he picked up his notebook and read over his notes, deliberately ignoring Mercer's continued scrutiny.

Keeping his head down, he addressed the blacksmith. "I think I've got everything I need now." Feeling the sweat begin to run down his face again, he closed the book and put it and the pen back in his pocket. "I'm going to arrange for someone to drop by and take a statement from you, they'll also need copies of any paperwork you have regarding the branding iron. If you could have that ready for them it'll make things go a lot quicker."

Desperate to get away from the building, Grissom reached for his crutches. Mercer grabbed them first.

"Why are you putting yourself through this? What in God's name do you think you're going to accomplish?"

"Please, give me the crutches." Grissom tried to keep his voice even. "I really have to get out of here."

"Are you alone up here?' Mercer asked, his concern growing. "Is there someone I can call?"

"No, there's no one." Gil took a deep breath, trying to quell his frustration. "Look, I appreciate your help, I really do but I've got to go _now_!"

Reluctantly, Mercer handed over the crutches. With a relieved sigh, Grissom stood and then held out his hand.

"Thank you, you've been more help than you'll ever know." After shaking the blacksmith's hand, Gil headed for the door, desperate for fresh air. Mercer followed behind him.

Getting in the driver's seat of the Lexus, Grissom opened the console and pulled out his wallet; removing a business card, he held it out to Mercer. "Someone will call to arrange a time to take your statement but, in the meantime, if you remember anything else that might be important, call this number and ask for either Catherine or Nick."

"I'll do that." Mercer took the card and put it in his shirt pocket. "You take care of yourself, okay? And, whatever it is that you're _really_ searching for; I hope you find it." With a final smile, he turned and headed back to the building. He stood in the open doorway and watched as Grissom turned the large SUV and drove back out to the road.

Heading back towards the exit for US-50, Grissom couldn't get there fast enough. He was disgusted with his performance and vowed to himself that nothing like that was ever going to happen again. As if things weren't bad enough, he'd run out of there with a complete description of a dead man but none whatsoever for the person he was really after; still, at least now he had a name and that was a start.

Seeing his exit up ahead, Gil heaved a sigh of relief. Turning west onto the highway, he put his foot down and sped up. The sooner he put Ely behind him the better.

* * *

Back in his office, Sam poured himself another bourbon then sat in the same seat Grissom had occupied. Pulling the business card from his pocket, he turned the telephone on his desk around so that he could dial. It only took seconds for the phone to be answered and, after discovering that neither Catherine nor Nick were available, Sam briefly told the receptionist what he was calling about and left it up to her to find him someone suitable to talk to.

The next voice he heard belonged to Conrad Ecklie.

TBC


	30. Chapter 30

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 30**

Jim Brass was not impressed.

Being dragged out of the suite at the Platinum to assist in taking the Mercedes back to the townhouse was one thing but, to find out that Sara's real intent had been shopping for paint was something altogether different. Still, Jim mused, as he stood patiently waiting for Sara to decide which paintbrushes she needed, perhaps it was a small price to pay for a bedroom and bathroom, the size of which almost rivaled his entire house. Having his own whirlpool bath certainly didn't hurt either.

At least now, with a shopping cart full of anything that could possibly be needed for the upcoming weekend painting spree, they could drop all of it, along with the car, back at the townhouse and Jim's planned afternoon in front of the giant plasma TV could commence, even of it was now somewhat abbreviated.

Looking around the large hardware section of the department store, he was sure he caught sight of a familiar face. Leaving Sara to her decision, he pushed the shopping cart ahead of him, determined to find out if he was right. Turning into the next aisle, he discovered that he was.

"Hey Ray, I thought that was you I saw." Jim smiled a welcome at his old colleague. "I don't think I've seen you since you left the Force."

"How're you doing, Jim?" Ray O'Riley held out his hand as Brass neared and both men shook. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I'm just giving Sara a hand. She and Grissom are about to put their house on the market but first it needs to be painted; so, here we are. You did hear about the two of them, didn't you?"

"Yeah, the old grapevine still manages to keep me up to date." Seeing Sara wandering down the aisle towards them with an armful of paintbrushes and rollers, O'Riley lifted his hand in greeting. "How is Grissom anyway? I heard about what happened to him."

"He was messed up pretty good; I think it's going to take a while." Brass gave a quick shrug. "He's out of town at the moment though so I get stuck with this lot." He gestured towards the cart then pulled it closer as another customer neared.

"Hi O'Riley." Sara grinned at the ex-detective as she dumped her purchases into the shipping cart. "How's the retirement going?"

"It's not too bad." He smiled back. "I manage to keep busy. I hear you're going to be doing some redecorating."

"Yeah, I've got a realtor coming by on Monday so; hopefully we can it all done this weekend."

Hearing a familiar ring tone, Sara opened her phone and checked the caller ID. Moving a few yards away for privacy, she answered the call.

"Sidle."

"Uh... it's Conrad Ecklie. Have you spoken to Grissom at all today?"

"No." Sara replied, curious as to where this was going. "He promised to call me this morning but didn't; if he hasn't phoned by 5, I'll call him."

"You may want to try getting in touch with him now."

"Why? What's happened?"

"I got a call from a Sam Mercer." Ecklie told her. "Does that name mean anything to you?"

"Yeah, he's from Ely; Grissom was supposed to be seeing him this morning."

"Oh, he did; that's what Mr. Mercer was calling about. He was worried about Gil; said he had some sort of panic attack and couldn't get out of the place fast enough. Mercer also wanted to know what I thought I was doing sending an obviously unwell man around the state by himself and asked if it was normal procedure to have a victim investigating his own case. In fact, I'd kind of like to know the answer to that last one myself."

Sara chose to ignore the sarcasm. "When did Grissom leave Mercer's?"

"I don't know, sometime before lunch I guess."

Sara checked her watch. "That's over three hours ago! If Mercer was so concerned, why didn't he call sooner?"

"He did." Ecklie admitted, sheepishly. "I've been calling Gil's cell for over two hours now; I only just found out he doesn't have it with him."

"Why the hell didn't you phone me sooner?" Sara demanded. "Anything could have happened to him by now."

"I never gave it a thought, Sidle. Sorry." Ecklie replied, spitefully. "I'm still getting used to this relationship of yours."

Sara took a breath and tried to think. "I'm going to call him now but I swear Ecklie, if anything's happened to him..."

Ecklie was quick to cut her off. "Watch it, Sidle; I'm still your boss remember."

"Whatever." Pulling the phone from her ear, Sara hung up then quickly speed-dialed Grissom's number. She listened to it ring for almost two minutes before pressing the end key and trying again with the same result. She looked up in time to see Jim approach.

"What's up?"

"I'm not sure." She gave him a quick rundown of Ecklie's call and her attempts to contact Grissom.

"Shit." Brass sighed. "Okay, how about we head back to the hotel and get the number of the motel he stayed at last night? Maybe he went back there after he left Mercer."

Sara's phone rang. Expecting it to be Ecklie, she didn't bother checking the display.

"Sidle."

"Hey, honey." Sara came to a stop at the sound of Grissom's voice. "Sorry I didn't pick up; I was in the shower and knew I'd never get to the phone in time"

"Um... that's alright." Put off her stride, Sara wasn't sure what to say. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. Woke up with a headache but it's not too bad now. How are you? You weren't sleeping were you?"

"No, no. Not at all." Completely confused, she shrugged her shoulders at Brass. "Jim and I have been buying paint for the townhouse. I've got Nick and Greg lined up to help me with it over the weekend. Could you hang on for a second?"

"Sure."

Putting the call on hold, Sara looked at Jim. "He's fine. In fact, he seems to be better than fine. I don't know what Mercer was going on about but Grissom's sounds better than when he left here."

"So, ask him what happened." Not wanting to intrude any further, Jim returned to O'Riley.

Sara lifted her phone again. "Gil?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you see Sam Mercer this morning?"

"Yeah."

"Did something happen?"

"He called Catherine, didn't he?"

"Actually, he called Ecklie." Sara told him. "Apparently, he was concerned about you."

"Great, that's all I need." There was a slight pause before he continued. "I can't say I'm totally surprised. That was probably the worst interview I've ever conducted in my life."

"He said you had a panic attack."

"I suppose that's as good a name for it as any. He showed me the block of wood he'd tested the branding iron on. I thought I could remain detached but seeing that just... it brought up some memories. I guess I wasn't as prepared as I thought I was."

"But you're okay now?"

"Yeah, I started feeling better almost as soon as I left Ely." Gil told her. "So, I guess Conrad's pissed."

"You could say that." Sara told him. "I probably just made it worse by hanging up on him."

"I was planning on giving Cath a call just after shift starts tonight; I've got a name for her to check out. If Ecklie's still around, I'll have a word with him then."

"Where are you now?"

"I'm in a motel in Austin. I don't think it helped matters that I was so tired when I got into Ely last night that I pretty much passed out. I don't want that happening again so, I thought I'd stop here now and travel on to Fernley in the morning. I've already spoken to Clare Ashton; she's not working tomorrow so she's given me her home address."

"Well, it's good to know you're still thinking clearly anyway." Sara told him.

"I think the scenery helped make that decision more than anything. It's beautiful up here, Sara; I wish I'd brought a camera with me. There's almost no other traffic, mountain ranges that go on forever; there's nothing to do but think. Maybe when this is all over we could both take a week off; come back up here and explore the area properly."

"I'd like that." She told him, as she checked the time. "I better go though; we have to drop all this stuff off at the townhouse and, hopefully, I can get a couple of hours of sleep before work tonight."

"Okay honey; tell Cath I'll speak to her later."

"What do you want me to do about Ecklie?"

"Don't worry about Conrad; I'll handle him."

Sara was just closing her phone as Jim and O'Riley approached.

"Well, I'm going to guess from that smile that there's nothing to worry about." Jim commented as they came to a stop beside her.

"He's fine." She told them. "Looks like Mercer's the guy that made the branding iron too. Gil's calling Catherine tonight; says he has a lead for her to follow."

"That's good." Jim looked down at the contents of their cart. "So, are we done here, now?"

Sara put away her cell and pulled out her shopping list. "Looks like we have everything we need."

"Okay then, how about we drop this and the Merc off, and then head back to the hotel; we can order room service and while you take a nap, I might just be able to catch the end of the ballgame."

"You're on." Sara said as she took control of the shopping cart from Jim. "It was good seeing you again, O'Riley."

"You too, Sara and say hi to Grissom for me. I hope he's better soon." Turning to Brass, O'Riley held his hand out again. "Take care, Captain."

"I will, Ray." Brass smiled at his old workmate. "And we won't leave it as long next time, okay? We'll get together and have a drink sometime soon."

With a final wave, Jim turned and followed Sara to the checkout. Watching them go, Ray O'Riley cursed silently at himself. When Vartann had called and asked him to keep an eye on Brass when he was off-duty, Ray had jumped at the opportunity. He'd kept himself busy with freelance security work and, for the most part, found it satisfying but he still missed his old career. What he hadn't anticipated though was how rusty he'd become; first day on the job and he'd already been seen.

Shaking his head in disgust, O'Riley abandoned the shopping cart he'd been absently filling during his time in the store and hurried to the exit, determined to get outside to his car before Brass and Sara finished paying for their purchases.

* * *

Sean Tate sat in his car and watched as Brass and Sara packed everything into the trunk of the Mercedes before Sara got behind the wheel and Brass got into his own car. He kept an eye on them as both cars passed, heading for the exit.

He'd kept a low profile since Monday's fiasco and hadn't seen either of his targets since then but had managed to pin down Brass easily enough this time. What had really surprised him was where the cop was staying now; and who was shacked up with him. There was no sign of Grissom as yet but Sean wasn't too concerned about that; wherever he was, the criminalist was in no condition, physically or mentally, to pose a threat.

He wondered again about Brass and Sara staying at The Platinum. How the hell could a cop afford that? And exactly what kind of relationship did those two have? He'd entered the lobby of the building expecting it to be just like every other large hotel in the area, but, being one of the few non-gaming establishments in Vegas, there were no crowds to hide in and he'd had to give up his plan to check it out.

Never mind, he thought to himself, what he'd found out this afternoon had more than made up for that disappointment. He'd known he was taking a risk following them into the store but the opportunity had been too good to pass up. He hadn't managed to get close but he had discovered something useful; whether Jim Brass knew it or not, he now had a bodyguard.

Looking along the row of cars opposite, Sean smiled as he watched Ray O'Riley start up his own vehicle and follow the other two out into the street, albeit at a discreet distance. Turning the key in the ignition of his hire car, Sean made a decision; Brass had to go, and he had to go soon. They couldn't watch him all the time and at the first opportunity he'd strike. With that thought in mind, he turned in the opposite direction to the one his prey had taken.

It was time to get the Pathfinder ready.

* * *

After handing out the night's assignments, Catherine returned to Grissom's office to await the promised phone call.

Having been cornered by Ecklie with news of Gil's breakdown as soon as she'd arrived at the Lab, Catherine had nervously awaited Sara's arrival. Assured by the younger woman that everything was actually fine, she still found herself unwilling to fully believe it until she had spoken to the man himself. She reviewed the case file to pass the time, nervously keeping one eye on the clock. At exactly quarter past, the phone rang.

"Gil?" Catherine winced as it came out sounding more of a plea than a question.

"You alright, Cath?" Grissom's tone held a hint of amusement. "You sound kind of weird."

"Sorry." Catherine cleared her throat. "I'm fine, how are you?"

"I'm good." He replied. "But I'm going to guess from the way you answered the phone that Conrad's spoken to you."

"Yeah, he has." Catherine chuckled. "I must say though, you don't sound particularly suicidal to me."

Grissom groaned. "He didn't say that, did he?"

"Not in so many words." She told him. "He sort of implied it though."

"God, the man's an idiot." Catherine was surprised to hear a laugh. "I was brought up as Catholic; that pretty much rules out suicide as an option."

"So what happened this morning?" She asked tentatively, not wanting to push but needing to know, nonetheless.

Grissom quickly recapped the meeting with Sam Mercer and his own rushed departure from the blacksmith's place of business.

"I can understand why Sam called the Lab." He told Catherine. "I embarrassed both of us reacting the way I did. I never should have put him in that position."

"You weren't to know that was going to happen... " Looking up from the desk, Catherine caught sight of Ecklie striding purposefully towards the office. "Oh, here we go; Conrad's on his way. What do you want to do?"

Grissom sighed. "Stick me on speaker, Cath; might as well get it over with."

She had just hit the button when the door was pushed open and the Assistant Lab Director entered the office.

"Is that Grissom you're speaking to?"

Grissom's voice came out clearly over the speaker. "Yes, Conrad; it's me."

"I was expecting to hear from you this afternoon. What the hell are you playing at Gil?"

"I'm not playing at anything; I'm just trying to do my job." Grissom responded. "Unfortunately, this morning I didn't do it too well."

"From what I've heard, that would be an understatement." Taking a seat, Ecklie made himself comfortable. "You want to give me your side of the story?"

Grissom sighed. "I screwed up in an interview, is that what you want me to say?"

"Actually, what I'd like to know is why you were conducting an interview at all." Ecklie replied.

"I'm on sick leave, remember?" Gil's voice hardened. "Whatever I do in my own time has nothing to do with you."

"Actually, you're suspended." Conrad pointed out. "And it has everything to do with me when you wander around the state interviewing people and handing out business cards. Now, as your superior, I want to know what happened."

"Fine!" Grissom spat. "Mercer showed me something that brought up feelings that I thought I had under control. I felt sick, dizzy and claustrophobic and couldn't wait to get out of there. Okay? Happy now?"

"You know, after our little chat in the car park yesterday, I was willing to forget about that whole psych evaluation thing." Ecklie leaned back in his chair, a self-satisfied smile on his face. "But, after speaking to Mr. Mercer and talking to you just now there is no way I'm having you back here without it."

"Conrad -" Catherine tried to interject.

"No, Catherine, you might be prepared to tiptoe around Grissom but I have the reputation of the Lab to think about. I've already had one phone call about his behavior; I do not want another one. Gil, I want you back in Vegas now!"

There was a pause before Grissom spoke.

"Okay Conrad, you win."

Astonish, Ecklie wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. "I do?"

"Yeah, I'll leave first thing in the morning; I can probably be back home tomorrow afternoon." Grissom told him. "There's just something I need you to do for me first."

Stunned that he had gotten his own way so quickly, Ecklie was happy to oblige. "Sure, what do you want?"

"I'll need the addresses for the Crime Labs in Lander, Churchill, Nye and Lincoln counties."

Confused now, Conrad looked across the desk at Catherine. "Um, why would you need those?"

"It's simple, Conrad." Gil told him. "I'll be stopping at each one on the way back to see if I'd like to work there. Of course, I will have to talk it over with Sara first; she may prefer Reno or Carson City or we could just pick another state entirely."

"You're bluffing."

"Care to try me?" Asked Grissom evenly.

Ecklie paled, finding the calmness of Gil's voice even more unsettling than the anger of their last confrontation. "Look Gil, there's no need to go that far. I'm sure we can work something out."

"Oh, we'll work it out alright, Conrad." Grissom promised him. "Let's start with this; get out of my office and let us get on with our conversation."

Catherine watched in amazement as Ecklie rose from the chair and moved towards the door. Opening it, he couldn't resist having the last word. "We'll speak when you get back, Grissom."

'Wow, I'm impressed." Catherine said as the door closed behind him. "It wasn't that long ago that you were trying to take his head off with a paperweight and now you can put him in his place without even raising your voice. Sara was right; you are getting better, aren't you?"

"There's still a way to go." Grissom conceded. "But, I'm getting there."

'So, when _are_ you coming home?" She asked.

Catherine waited for an answer but Grissom was silent.

"Gil?"

"I can't answer that, Cath; I honestly don't know when I'll be back."

"Excuse me? When I spoke to Sara just a little while ago, I got the impression you were only going to be up there for a couple of days."

"I had plenty of time to think after I left Ely this morning and I've decided that I'm not prepared to live with a threat hanging over me. This guy has already had an impact on my life, my career and my relationship; I can't just sit in Vegas and wait for him to come after me again."

"He won't get another chance, Gil." Catherine told him. "Jim got a list of five possible suspects from the Pathfinder's owner, he and Nick are running checks on them now; by the end of shift we'll probably have a name."

"I already know his name, Cath."

"You do?"

"A name and a credit card number." Grissom told her "It's Sean Tate."

"Sean Tate?" Catherine scanned the list of name Jim gave her, confirming Tate was on it.

"Yeah, that's who's behind all this." Grissom confirmed. "I don't know where he is or why he's doing this but I've made my mind up; I'm going to find him and stop him and get my life back."

TBC

**A/N:** I hope that wasn't as confusing to read as it was to write. I had the different scenes split into four or five different files and it's taken the best part of two days to put it together and have it appear even remotely legible.

Can't make any comment on 9.10 unfortunately. Thanks to a non-rating period and a network that treats it's viewers with contempt we stopped getting new episodes after 'Leave Out All The Rest' and have been stuck in season 6 ever since. I know what happens but have decided to be totally perverse and attempt to avoid the pictures and videos. It is nice to know they are capable of giving us a happy ending though.

Thanks for reading.


	31. Chapter 31

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 31**

The two and a half hour drive was Austin was uneventful and, shortly after 11am, Grissom eased the Lexus off the road and turned at the entrance to Clare Ashton's property. She had mentioned when they'd spoken on the phone that she ran a horse stud and riding school but Gil was amazed, as he drove along the rutted driveway, just how much land that seemed to encompass.

Pulling up in front of the house, he was just getting out of the vehicle when he heard a low growl coming from round the back of the SUV. Turning to look, he found himself confronted by a large, reddish-tan colored dog, its teeth bared menacingly as it eyed him intently. Unable to get back into the car and afraid that grabbing one of his crutches would be seen as a threatening move, all he could do was hang onto the car door and try to talk his way out of the situation.

Keeping his tone as even and friendly as possible, he addressed the dog.

"Hey buddy; you're a good boy, aren't you?" Holding onto the car with one hand he held the other out towards the animal. "Come on then; I'm not going to do you any harm."

Slowly the big dog inched forward. "That's the boy." Grissom was encouraged to see the tail begin a slow wag. "You're just protecting your home, aren't you?" Finally close enough to smell the offered hand, the tail picked up speed as Gil slowly moved his fingers round to scratch behind one ear. As he watched, the animal instantly collapsed to the ground and rolled over onto its back for a belly rub. Struggling to keep his balance, Grissom bent to oblige.

"You had me going for a minute there." He told the now wriggling animal. "I thought you meant business with those teeth of yours but you're just a big fraud, aren't you boy?" A quick glance told him he'd been wrong about that too. "Sorry, girl."

"Her name's Murphy."

Turning his head in the direction of the voice, Grissom smiled at the woman watching him from the front porch.

"She's not much of a guard dog, is she?" he commented as he continued to scratch the dog's chest.

"No, she never was." The woman conceded as she made her way down the three steps to the driveway. It wasn't until Gil pulled himself upright that he noticed she was heavily pregnant. She held her hand out as she neared him.

"I'm Clare Ashton."

"Gil Grissom." He said as they shook. "Thank you for agreeing to see me."

"I was happy to; we don't get many visitors out here, do we, Murph?" Hearing her name, the dog sat back up and wagged her tail.

Grissom reached back into the Lexus and rifled through the contents of the passenger seat before he located the photos Heather had printed off for him. Sliding them into his jacket pocket he retrieved his crutches then slammed the door shut. Turning, he saw Clare watching his every move.

"You get the number of the truck that hit you?" She joked as she took a closer look at the still-visible markings on his face. "What happened?"

"Accident." He replied dismissively, not wanting to elaborate on his injuries. "So, when are you due?"

"Six weeks to go." She rubbed her hand over her protruding belly. "Not long now, thank God." Walking slightly ahead of him, Clare led the way up the steps to the house. "You're a bit earlier than I expected; I haven't even started preparing lunch yet."

She held the front door open for Grissom.

"The drive from Austin took less time than I expected." He explained as he entered the house.

Walking down the hallway to the kitchen, Clare glanced at a wall clock as she passed. "Well, we've got at least an hour until lunch; how about a drink first?" Pulling out a chair, she gestured for Grissom to sit as she headed over to the counter. "Coffee, tea or would you prefer something cold?"

Having spent the past few days drinking coffee that looked and tasted more like motor oil, he jumped at the chance for a change. "Tea, please."

Ten minutes later both were seated comfortably at the table, the dog deciding to curl up on the floor beside Grissom. Looking down at the animal, he noticed the distinctive ridge of hair running along her spine. "Rhodesian Ridgeback isn't she?"

"Yes." Clare confirmed. "She was my husband's dog; loved him to bits." She rolled her eyes. "Actually, she loves almost everyone to bits; she's not the most discerning animal in the world. That probably explains her failure as a guard dog." She sipped her tea as she studied her visitor.

"So, you wanted to ask me about Debbie Marlin?"

Grissom nodded as he put his cup down on the table. "I take it you went to school together."

"We did for a while." Clare told him. "Debbie and her parents moved to Fernley when she was fifteen. None of the other girls could stand her but, for some reason, the two of us became best friends." She smiled as she remembered. "God knows why; I think the only thing in we had in common was the fact that we were the same age."

"What was she like back then?"

"She was... fun, always wanting to try something new. She didn't care what people thought of her; if she wanted to do something, she just went ahead and did it." Clare thought for a moment. "She didn't have a happy home life though, I remember that. Her mother drank and her father would come in from work, turn the TV on and ignore everyone. I think Debbie felt responsible for the way they were; she told me once that she was sure they would have divorced years ago if she hadn't come along. Neither of them showed her any affection but she learned pretty early on that there was another way to get it."

"Which explains why the other girls didn't like her." Grissom commented wryly.

"Oh yeah, I think it's fair to say that most of the guys who grew up in Fernley back then can count Debbie as their first sexual experience. It wasn't just boys her own age either; there were quite a few men who used to hang around. I think she preferred them really; they used to buy her gifts, she was always showing them off."

Gil decided to hazard a guess. "Jewelry?"

"Bracelets, pendants, rings, you name it." Clare said with a sad smile. "As long as it had a butterfly on it somewhere she was happy." She looked at Grissom. "Why do you want to know about this after so long? She died years ago."

"I know; I worked on her case at the time." Gil told her. "A couple of things have happened recently that seem to have some connection to Debbie and her murder."

"You never got whoever was responsible for it, did you?" Clare asked. "Has he done it again?"

"No, he hasn't." Grissom decided to tell her the truth. "Actually, someone killed him; about six weeks ago up in Montana."

"What goes around, comes around I guess." Clare stood and walked over to the window. "Will you be alright here for a while; it looks like we've got a storm coming and I'd like to try and get the horses in before it hits."

Grissom's gaze slipped from her face down to her stomach. "I don't want to sound rude but should you be having anything to do with horses in your condition?"

"Nope." Clare replied as she pulled a jacket of the back of one of the chairs. "I'm quite sure my obstetrician would have a fit if he knew but there's no one else around and it's got to be done." She could see he was about to protest. "Don't worry; I'm just going to get the three that are in foal and settle them in the stables; the rest will be fine out in the fields. Just make yourself at home; I won't be long."

Rising from his chair, Grissom moved over to the same window Clare had been standing at just minutes before. Looking out at her retreating back, he was relieved to see that the three horses she'd mentioned were happily grazing together not far from the house. He watched as she effortlessly haltered the first and began leading it over to a large barn that stood nearby.

Gil was surprised at how comfortable he felt here. He'd liked Clare immediately and could only put it down to the fact that she reminded him of Catherine; both were strong, no-nonsense women, determined to make it on their own. Clare had spoken of her husband in the past tense so he assumed the marriage had failed, leaving her to raise a child alone; another thing she and Catherine shared.

He continued to watch as Clare returned to get the next horse, one hand pressed against her lower back. He felt guilty that he was unable to help out but with next-to-no experience with horses and his leg to contend with, he knew he'd have been more of a hindrance than anything else. But there was something he could do to help out.

Pulling open the refrigerator, he examined the contents. She hadn't mentioned what she planned to make for lunch but, seeing some leftover roast chicken and the makings of a salad, Grissom pulled them out and started preparing a meal.

Clare returned twenty minutes later to find lunch ready and waiting. Sitting back at the table, she looked at the plate in front of her.

"Well, someone's got you well trained."

Sitting opposite her, Grissom smiled. "Actually, I was house-broken well before Sara came along." He reached into his jacket and withdrew one of the photographs.

"I got this off your website." He slid the picture across the table for her to see.

"I'd almost forgotten about that." Clare said as she looked at the photo. "We'd decided to advertise the breeding program on the internet and I was updating the site one day when I decided to do a personal page for Debbie, a kind of tribute I guess. It wasn't long after she died."

"That's the two of you of in front, right?" Gil asked as he started to eat.

"Yep, I think that was taken just before she left Fernley. About the only other thing I can tell you about that picture is that Brian took it." Seeing Grissom's questioning look, she explained. "When I said that Debbie and I were opposites, I meant it. While she was after every male in town I was only ever interested in Brian; we fell for each other in the fourth grade and got married three months after high school graduation."

"Wow, you were both pretty young." Gil commented as Clare continued to stare at the picture.

"Yeah, we were." He eyes lifted to meet Grissom's. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'm being much help to you am I?"

"You're doing fine." He assured her as he pointed to the photo again. "There are three boys standing in the background. Do you know who they are?"

She glanced down at the image. "Oh, I know those three alright."

"I know two of them are Jason and Kevin Beck." Gil told her. "I'm hoping that the third one is Sean Tate."

"Yes, that's Sean." Clare confirmed. "Mooning over Debbie just like he always did."

Gil smiled, pleased at the way things were going. "Sean had a thing for Debbie?"

"Oh, big time." Clare laid her knife and fork on her plate and then leaned back in her chair. "He used to follow her around like a lost puppy; he couldn't do enough for her. Debbie thought it was funny; I just found it embarrassing."

"I take it he was one of her... conquests."

"Debbie and I had a fight one day, I don't even know what it was about now but I'm sure it was something trivial that got blown out of all proportion; you know what teenage girls are like. Anyway, we were yelling at each other and suddenly she blurts out that she'd had sex with Sean."

Clare shook her head sadly at the memory.

"The only thing that could have shocked me more was if she said she'd gone after Brian but, I think she knew he was completely out of bounds. Still, knowing that she'd slept with Sean was bad enough. We made up a couple of days later but it was never really the same after that."

"I'm sorry, Clare; I seem to be missing something." Grissom put his cutlery down and looked at the woman opposite. "You were with Brian then; why should you care that she'd slept with Sean?"

Clare met his gaze. "Because Sean is my younger brother."

* * *

Pushing open the door to the diner, Brass was surprised to find Warrick sitting alone at one of the booths. Making his way over to the counter, Jim ordered coffee and an omelet before sliding into the seat opposite the criminalist.

"Late breakfast or early lunch?" He asked as he watched the younger man polish off the last of his meal.

"Both actually." Warrick told him. "You trying to get out of painting detail as well?"

"Hey, I've been working overtime; I've got a genuine excuse." Jim shook his head in mock despair. "Helping coach Little League for your Grandmother's church? Is that the best you could come up with, Rick?"

"At least I was smart enough to mention it before Sara brought up the subject of a working bee." Warrick's smile was very self-satisfied. "She could hardly accuse me of trying to wriggle out of it when I'd already told everyone I was going to be busy."

Jim narrowed his eyes as he stared across the table. "Exactly how _did_ you know she was going to be looking for helpers anyway?"

"I have my ways." Warrick didn't elaborate as the waitress arrived with Jim's meal.

Brass kept an eye on him as he started to eat. "Grissom tipped you off, didn't he?"

"I don't have to reveal my source to you." Warrick replied with a grin as he drained the last of his coffee. "Besides, Sara's said it was only the lounge and kitchen that really needed painting; with Nick and Greg to help her out they'll have it finished in no time."

Seeing Jim watching something out of the window behind him, Warrick turned to see what had caught his attention.

"Something interesting?" Looking out at the car park, Warrick could see nothing out of the ordinary.

"You see that green Toyota Camry parked down the end there?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"I saw the same car last night outside the hotel and I'm pretty sure it followed me to work as well."

Remembering Grissom's phone call, Warrick was instantly on alert. "You want to call it in, get a squad car round here?"

Before he could respond, Brass was interrupted by his cell phone. With an apologetic shrug, he answered it.

Warrick kept an eye on the suspicious vehicle while Brass took his call. The windows were tinted but he was sure he could make out the shape of someone sitting in the driver's seat. He turned back around as Jim hung up.

"You got your kit with you?" Jim asked as he pushed his plate away and stood up.

"Sure. Why?" Warrick quickly slid out of the booth to join him.

"Someone reported an abandoned vehicle on East Tropicana and the patrol car that checked it says it's our Pathfinder. If I call Nick or Catherine in, it'll take them at least half an hour to get there; we're just a couple of minutes away."

"Well, if it is the vehicle I can print the exterior and then have it towed to the Lab; Nick can finish the job when he gets in tonight." Warrick nodded towards the window. "What about the Camry?"

"I almost forgot about that; hang on a sec." Brass pulled out his wallet then headed to the counter to pay for his food, ordering a large black coffee to go while he was at it.

Warrick followed him from the diner and was surprised when Jim walked over to the Toyota and rapped on the window. Slowly the glass slid down.

"I'm disappointed in you, Ray." Brass held out the cup. "You're letting the side down; you know that, don't you?"

"Sorry, Jim." O'Riley gave Warrick a small wave before he took the proffered coffee.

"If you've taken up covert surveillance as a hobby, I got to tell you buddy, you really need more practice." Brass gave an exaggerated sigh. "You want to tell me who's behind all this?"

Seeing O'Riley's eyes shift quickly to Warrick, Jim guessed. "It's Grissom, isn't it?"

Jim looked at both men as he waited for an answer but neither spoke. He looked at his watch. "Okay, I don't have time for this just now. Warrick get your car and follow me. Ray, you might as well drink your coffee while it's hot; if you still want to continue with this game you've got going, we'll be at East Tropicana."

Watching both vehicles head off, Ray O'Riley breathed a sigh of relief; he'd forgotten just how stressful tailing someone could actually be. Vartann wasn't going to be too pleased that Brass had clicked to it so quickly but, at least Ray's job had just become easier; following Jim openly was definitely going to be easier than trying to remain undetected. Finishing his drink, he threw the cup onto the passenger side, started his car and headed in the direction of Tropicana Avenue.

* * *

Not wanting to get in the way, O'Riley pulled his Camry to a stop twenty yards away from scene.

The Pathfinder had been abandoned in a No Standing zone in one of the quieter sections of Tropicana Avenue and traffic was light by Vegas standards. Warrick was busy dusting the driver's door for prints while Brass and one of the uniformed officers were directing cars around the scene. Having noticed the tow truck approaching, Jim and the patrolman stopped traffic completely to allow the large vehicle free access to the SUV.

Hearing a nearby car rev its engine, Ray checked his rearview mirror for the source and saw a white sedan, ten yards behind him, start to pull away from the curb. He shook his head at the stupidity of the driver as the car picked up speed and headed towards the blockade. A second later, O'Riley realized the car had no intention of stopping.

Throwing open his door, Ray scrambled from his car and started to run.

Facing the other line of cars, Brass was oblivious to the danger he was in. Hearing O'Riley's desperate shouts, he turned to see what was going on behind him. It was at that exact moment that the sedan found its mark.

TBC


	32. Chapter 32

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 32**

Alerted by the shouting, Warrick turned just in time to see the car hit Jim before veering around the line of stopped vehicles and taking off down the road. Dropping the print brush he had been using, Warrick sprinted to the fallen man's side.

Seeing Brass lying motionless on his side, he expected the worst. Kneeling down, he gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Jim? Can you hear me?"

Getting only a groan in response, Warrick began looking for signs of obvious injuries. Suddenly aware of the presence of other people, he looked up to find O'Riley and one of the patrolmen standing beside him.

"Paramedics are on the way." The officer informed him. "We also got out an immediate alert on the car; he won't get far."

Hearing a siren in the distance, Warrick wasn't sure whether it belonged to a responding squad car or an ambulance but he hoped it was the latter. O'Riley squatted down beside him.

"How badly is he hurt?"

"I'm not sure." Warrick shrugged. "I don't want to move him before the paramedics get here. His right arm looks broken but, apart from that, all I can see are cuts and grazes." He bent over Brass again. "Come on, Jim; time to wake up."

As Warrick and O'Riley watched, Brass slowly opened both eyes and then blinked in the bright sunlight.

"Warrick?" Before either man could stop him, he started to turn onto his back then quickly rolled back as pain shot through him. "Shit! I wish I hadn't done that!"

"Where does it hurt?"

"Left hip, right arm." Brass panted through the pain.

"Okay, just stay still; ambulance is on its way." Warrick placed a restraining hand on him as he looked around at the gathering crowd. He turned to O'Riley. "Could you have the officers clear the area and then start taping it off? I'll call Ecklie and get someone from Days out here as soon as Jim's taken care of."

"What about the car?" Brass asked weakly. "Did anyone get a description?"

"Yeah, white Chevy Impala." O'Riley informed him. "One of the uniforms managed to get the tags; they're looking for it now."

"Good." Jim groaned as he shifted slightly. "God, where's that ambulance?"

"It's coming, Jim; just hang on."

Twenty minutes later, Jim had been strapped to a backboard and was being loaded into the ambulance. Standing watching from the curb, O'Riley let out an exasperated sigh.

"I should have realized what was happening sooner." The ex-detective ran his hand over his close-cropped hair. "If I had I could have -"

"Don't beat yourself up over it, O'Riley." Warrick said as he watched the paramedics preparing to leave. "If you hadn't yelled when you did I think we'd probably be watching Brass being taken off in a body bag instead of an ambulance. When he turned to see what the yelling was about he stepped out of the way; the car only managed to sideswipe him. Believe it or not; you probably saved his life."

Both men watched as the ambulance left on its way to Desert Palm. Looking around the immediate area, Warrick could see that, between the police and his dayshift colleagues, everything was under control. Turning to look at the man beside him, Warrick could see how shaken up O'Riley was.

"Come on, Ray." Clapping a hand on the big man's shoulder, Warrick steered him towards his Camry. "My car's inside the crime scene tape and it'll be a while before it's cleared; how about you give me a lift to the hospital?"

"We can't leave just now." Ray pointed out as they reached the vehicle. "They're going to want statements from us."

"They'll know where to find us." Warrick assured him as they both climbed into the car. "I think the best place for us just now is at the hospital with Brass."

* * *

Standing in the entrance to Desert Palm ER, Catherine scanned the packed waiting room looking for a familiar face; she quickly spotted two of them.

"How is he?" She demanded as she managed to snag a newly-vacated seat opposite Warrick and O'Riley.

"No one's been out to tell us yet." Warrick explained to her. "I'm pretty sure I saw Grissom's surgeon go in there about ten minutes ago though so, hopefully it won't be too much longer."

"Vartann called and told me what happened." Catherine told them. "You think it was deliberate?"

"Without a doubt." O'Riley spoke up. "I was parked on the other side of the street at the time and the white car was a couple of car lengths behind me. It pulled out, sped up and drove straight at him."

Warrick nodded. "Looks like it was a trap; I think it's a bit too coincidental that Brass gets run over at the same time and place that your Pathfinder turns up."

"I agree." Catherine said. "It has to be Tate."

"You've got a name now?"

"We think so; Sean Tate." Catherine told him. "Grissom got the name from the blacksmith that made the branding iron. We spent last night running him through the databases but the only things we managed to turn up is his driver's license and the fact that he hasn't used his credit card in over three weeks. It's like the Beck brothers all over again; there's almost no official record of the man."

"What about the bank that issued the credit card?" O'Riley suggested. "He'd have to have other accounts you could check."

"We thought of that but, apart from the fact that the branding iron was paid for with his card, we don't have anything else to tie him to the case; we'd never get a warrant." Looking around the room, Catherine caught sight of Dr. Morgan heading towards them.

"How is he?" Catherine asked as Warrick and O'Riley scrambled to their feet.

"He'll live." Morgan said with a smile. "His right arm isn't broken but he has dislocated the elbow, apart from that it's just abrasions and bruising. From the looks of it, his hip caught most of the blow but nothing showed up on X-ray; he'll be sore for a while but he was very lucky, it could have been a lot worse."

"Thank God for that." Catherine sighed with relief. "You'll be admitting him?"

"Well, I'd like keep him in overnight but it seems he's determined to leave as soon as possible." Morgan said. "It'll only take a couple of minutes to pop the elbow back into place but we'll be giving him a light sedative along with pain relief when we do it and I'd like to keep an eye on him afterwards. I was hoping one of you would be able to convince him to stay."

"Oh, he'll stay Doctor; I'll make sure of it." Catherine stated to the amusement of both Warrick and O'Riley. "It was bad enough when Grissom decided to discharge himself; Jim's not getting away with it too."

"Okay then, I'll leave that part up to you." Morgan told her as he checked his watch. "I'll go sort out this elbow of his; the sooner we put it back the better and then you can see him. Should be about half an hour or so."

"Thanks, Doc." O'Riley called as they watched him head back to the treatment room. Taking their seats again, Catherine looked at Warrick.

"Have you let the others know what happened yet?"

"No, I didn't think there was much point until we knew what was going on."

Catherine looked about the busy room. "Probably just as well; I don't think this place will hold too many more people. I'll give Sara a call once Jim's settled; she can bring in whatever he's going to need for tonight and a change of clothes for tomorrow. Someone _is_ going to have to tell Grissom though, and I don't have a number for him."

Warrick pulled out his phone and stood up. "I'll let him know."

"Hang on." Catherine stopped him leaving. "You've got Grissom's new phone number?"

"Yeah, he called me a couple of days ago." He said with a derisively laugh. "He wanted me to keep an eye on Brass, thought this guy might go after him. I guess I better go let him know I screwed up."

* * *

"It's not your fault, Warrick; you did everything you could. Listen; when you see Sara, tell her I'll give her a call later tonight when I know where I'm staying."

Standing at the sink rinsing the lunch dishes, Clare kept a surreptitious eye on Grissom as he concluded his call. She'd noticed a subtle change in him ever since she'd told him about her relationship to Sean. There was nothing overtly different in his manner but there was a coolness to him now that hadn't been evident before and he was definitely less comfortable in her presence than he had been. Clare was pretty certain she knew what it was about.

Looking out the window at the rain that was now teeming down, she was surprised at the sense of relief she felt. She'd suspected for months that this day was coming and had known it was inevitable three days ago when Sean had returned her DVD player.

Hearing Grissom close his cell phone, Clare turned to face him.

"Trouble?" She asked as she started to dry the dishes.

"A friend of mine was hit by a car at a crime scene; according to the witnesses it was a deliberate act; the driver was trying to kill him."

Pulling out the nearest chair, Clare sat down heavily. "Is he alright?"

"They're keeping him in over night but yeah, apart from a dislocated elbow and some bruising, he'll be fine."

"Is this related to Debbie's murder too?"

"I believe so." Gil told her. "The same person that killed Debbie's murderer is now targeting those that conducted the original investigation. Jim Brass was the lead detective on the case."

"It's Sean, isn't it" She asked evenly.

He saw no point in denying it. "I'm sorry, Clare. I had no idea that you're his sister; if I had I never would have come here."

Turning in the chair, Clare stared out the kitchen window at the rain again. A sudden clap of thunder made her flinch.

"Are there other victims?"

"There are four murders that we know of." Gil told her. "Along with today's attempt on Jim's life, there's also been an arson attack and he kidnapped and assaulted another member of the investigating team."

"Well, I did say he'd do anything for Debbie, didn't I?" She looked across the table at Grissom, giving him a sad smile. "I'm sorry; I'm really not sure what to say."

"You don't have to say anything." Grabbing his crutches, Gil stood up. "I'm going to leave; I shouldn't be here."

"No, sit back down." Clare looked back at the window. "I'm not sending anyone out in that; especially someone who doesn't know the area. Is the other person he hurt alright?"

"He will be." Grissom said as he retook his seat. He'd spent years talking to suspect's family members but he'd never come across the kind of calm acceptance he was seeing now.

"You don't seem surprised by what I've told you."

"That's because I'm not." Clare admitted as she got to her feet. "Hang on a second; there a couple of things I want you to see."

She returned a short while later holding a picture frame and a DVD case. She sat down then held out the frame. Taking it from her, Grissom found himself looking at a photo of a tall, dark-haired man in his mid to late thirties standing beside a horse and smiling somewhat self-consciously at the camera.

"That's Brian; he disappeared four months ago."

At Grissom's surprised look, she started to explain.

"When our mother died, Sean and I inherited her house and, since it wasn't really being used, I wanted to put it on the market. We have a huge mortgage on this place, we're always trying to improve our breeding stock and we had a baby on the way; we needed money. When I cornered him about it he refused point-blank so I asked him to buy me out but he wouldn't do that either. He told me he had just quit his job, that he had some business to take care of and would be using the house as a base." She gave a hollow laugh. "I guess we know what he meant by that now, don't we?"

"What did he do before he quit?" As if knowing her master was being discussed, Murphy sat up and placed her head on Grissom's knee, waiting patiently until he began to pat her.

"He was with the DA's office in Reno; Assistant District Attorney."

Gil smiled as another piece of the puzzle fell into place. As an ADA, Sean would have been able to access the Marlin murder files as well as making sure that there was almost no trace of Jason and Kevin Beck in the system.

"Anyway, when Brian found out what had happened he decided to go and see Sean himself. Brian was very much a pacifist, he hated confrontation but, ever since we found out about the baby he'd become very protective of me and he hated to see me upset." Clare closed her eyes as she remembered. "He left here at eight o'clock that night and never came back."

"You reported him missing?"

"Yes, I went to the sheriff's department the next day and filed a missing person's report. They spoke to Sean and he told them that he hadn't seen Brian that night. The conclusion they reached was that Brian had probably found him self a girlfriend and taken off with her but he wouldn't do something like that; he just wasn't that kind of man." She ran her hands over her belly. "We waited years for this; Brian would never have willing left his child."

"So, you believe he's dead?" Grissom looked down at the photo he still held.

"I think Sean killed him; I've just never been able to prove it." She looked up to meet Grissom's gaze. "I made the mistake of mentioning that to one of the deputies and was basically told to that I was being stupid, that because Sean helped put bad guys away he'd never be involved in something like that." She placed the DVD on the table. "That's why, when I found this I held on to it; I really wasn't sure who I could trust it to."

Grissom cocked his head as looked at the unmarked case. "What is it?"

"A couple of weeks ago, Sean's DVD player wasn't working so he borrowed mine." She explained as she came to stand beside Gil. "He was in town three days ago and finally returned it. When I plugged it back in I found that he'd left this disc inside. Come on, I'll put it on for you."

Getting to her feet, Clare led the way to the lounge room. Motioning to the sofa, she waited until Grissom had taken a seat before turning on the TV and inserting the disc.

"I only watched the first five minutes but that was more than enough; I don't want to see it again. When you're done, I'll be in the kitchen."

Grissom waited until she'd left the room then turned his attention to the television. Curious, he pushed the play button on the remote control and seconds later found himself watching the torture and death of Vincent Lurie.

TBC

**A/N:** People have asked about the meaning of the title and I know I should have explained it long before this but I just never quite around to it... until now.

Lex Talionis means law of retaliation in Latin. The most common interpretation is 'an eye for an eye' but a broader definition is 'a counter- punishment that is fitting in it's severity' which I thought fitted the story a bit better than the other names I was considering at the time.

And, just because I like to mix things up a bit, story number 2 has a working title that stems from Buddhism but I promise, if I stick with that name I'll actually put an explanation in pretty early on in the piece; not 32 chapters later.

Thanks for reading.


	33. Chapter 33

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 33**

After greeting the uniformed officer on duty in the hospital corridor, Sara quickly pushed open the door to room 514 and entered. Placing the overnight bag she had been carrying on the chair beside the bed she smiled at the injured homicide detective.

Reclining on the bed, right arm splinted and in a sling, Jim Brass looked considerably better than he had when she had seen him earlier.

"How are you feeling now?"

"Not too bad really; in fact, I really don't see why I have to stay here at all. I'm sure I'd feel even better if they let me go home."

"Oh, I don't think you would; not after Catherine had finished with you." Sara said with a smile. "What was it Warrick said she threatened you with? Something about seeing if a Denali could finish the job that Impala started, wasn't it?"

"Yeah well, considering I'd be nineteen floors up at the Platinum I'd like to see her try." He watched as Sara grabbed the overnight bag off the chair and took a seat.

Trying to pull himself up further in the bed, Jim winced as pain radiated through his bruised hip. "Still hurts, huh?"

"I actually think it's worse than the elbow." Brass admitted. "That started to feel better as soon as they put it back in place but there's not a lot they can do for bruising."

"You do know how lucky you were, don't you." Sara said. "You scared the hell out of Warrick; he thought you were dead when he got to you. And I don't think O'Riley's going to get over it anytime soon either."

"I know; if Ray hadn't yelled when he did... " He slowly shook his head at the memory. "All I remember was hearing him and then seeing a flash of white as I turned, and then nothing; I don't remember it hitting me, I don't remember falling, there's just nothing until I heard Warrick's voice telling me to wake up." He suddenly looked up. "Did they find the car?"

"Yeah, it was abandoned in Stewart Avenue, just off Nellis Boulevard." Sara told him. "Days processed it but it had been wiped clean, there's not a trace of anything. Registration pegged it as a rental; Nick was going to follow that up this afternoon."

"You know, that's the second time we've lost track of him in that area. There's something there that we don't know about yet."

"Catherine said the same thing." Sara told him. "She was thinking about organizing a door-to-door of the businesses along Nellis to see if anything turns up."

"Might work." Brass commented. "Tell her to speak to Vartann about it; it might pay to pull in some cadets to help out too, that's a hell of a long road."

"I'll let her know." Sara checked her watch. "I'm going to have to go; shift's due to start soon." Seeing Jim about to speak, she beat him to the punch. "And no, I will not be picking you up on my way home. I spoke to Dr. Morgan and he said he wouldn't be releasing you until lunchtime at the earliest."

"Oh, it'll be 12 o'clock on the dot; I'll make sure of it." Jim said with a grin. "You spoken to Gil yet?"

"No, he told Warrick he'd call when he got to the motel but he hasn't yet. He's probably just fallen asleep." Standing up, Sara prepared to leave. "I'll give him until morning and if I still haven't heard anything, I'll call him; I'm sure he'll want to know how you are anyway."

"You know, I wasn't entirely comfortable with the thought of him traveling around by himself." Brass admitted as Sara pulled open the door. "But, after this morning, I think maybe it's for the best; at least now we know he's out of this idiot's reach."

* * *

Grissom lay on the sofa in Clare Ashton's lounge room and stared at the ceiling. He'd lasted less than an hour in the small spare room upstairs, insomnia and a growing feeling of claustrophobia sending him back down to the lounge just before midnight. The problem now was that every time he closed his eyes, he heard the voice again; the voice he now knew for sure belonged to Sean Tate.

"_If you'd done your job properly none of this would have been necessary. Instead you sat there and drew parallels between yourself and a murderer. I'm just making sure you have one more thing in common."_

As it turned out though, that wasn't entirely true.

Watching the recording, he'd discovered that Lurie had lucked out once again; Grissom was sure the doctor was already dead when Tate finally got round to branding him. Witnessing that particular act had, perhaps, been the most disturbing of all; he could still smell the stench of his own charred flesh.

Needing to move, Gil got up and headed into the kitchen, hearing the dog follow along behind. Opening the back door, he let Murphy precede him and watched as she made a quick lap of the yard area before flopping down on the still-damp grass.

The night air was cool and refreshing and Grissom carefully sat down on the bottom step then looked up into the star filled sky.

He didn't hear Clare come out behind him but wasn't surprised when she spoke.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." He said, turning his body to give her a quick smile. "I just needed some fresh air."

"I heard you get up hours ago. Have you slept at all?"

"Some." He answered evasively as he glanced at his watch. "What about you? It's only just past 4 o'clock."

"Madam here is an early riser." Clare patted her stomach. "Every morning at around 3:30 she starts kicking and won't quit until I get out of bed."

"It's a girl?"

"Yep and personally, I can't wait until she gets here." She broke into a smile. "If nothing else, it'll make working with the horses a whole lot easier."

Having followed behind Clare as she'd fed and checked on the livestock after the storm, Gil had been shocked by the amount of physical labor she was subjecting herself to in her condition.

He looked up at her as she leaned against the wall beside the door.

"You've got to get yourself some help out here, Clare. It's not good for you or the baby to carry on doing the things you are."

She gave a half-laugh. "Believe me, I'd love to, but there's this little thing called money holding me back."

"Surely you can get someone to help out; even if it's just a couple of hours a day?"

"I've got next to nothing." She moved to sit on the top step behind him. "Stock prices went down, feed prices went up, and Brian had insisted I stop giving riding lessons because of the baby so I don't even have the pittance that used to bring in. I pay the mortgage out of what's left of our savings and hope like hell nothing happens and I have to call the vet in." She shrugged. "If Sean had agreed to sell Mom's house, the money raised would have carried us through."

"So what about when the baby arrives?" Grissom asked. "Are you just going to park her out in the stable while you get back to work?"

"If I can keep hold of this place she's going to be raised around horses anyway; might as well get her used to it straight away." She tugged her robe closer around her body. "It's chilly out here; how about coming back inside? I'll make you some tea."

Grissom nodded and pulled himself upright. Slipping the crutches under his arms, he held a hand out to help Clare get up then waited until she was through the door before calling the dog and following them both inside.

Five minutes later, Clare placed a steaming-hot cup in front of Grissom then took a seat at the table. She watched him for a moment before speaking.

"You're Sean's other victim, aren't you? The one that was kidnapped and assaulted."

His eyes met hers briefly before he dropped his head to stare at the table.

"I started to wonder when I saw the marks around your wrists; I may have only seen the beginning of that recording but I remember how that man was tied up. However, it wasn't until you came back into the kitchen after watching that disc that I knew for sure."

Grissom sighed. "I'm sorry; I thought I'd managed to hide it."

"Oh, I can't fault you on your performance; if I didn't know any better, I'd have thought there was nothing out of the ordinary but you couldn't hide your eyes; they're what really gave you away. I never understood what the word haunted meant until you sat down at the table and looked at me."

"And that's why you insisted I stay here tonight, isn't it?" He remembered how adamant she'd been that he remain at the house. "It had nothing to do with more rain or you not wanting to be here by yourself, did it?"

"Well, I may have lied about the rain but I was telling the truth when I said I'd appreciate the company; I'd forgotten how nice it is to have someone else around." She gave him a quick smile as he finally raised his head. "But I thought the last thing you needed tonight was to be alone in some strange motel room."

He took a deep breath. "Yes... I answered a knock at the door one night and was attacked before being hauled out into the desert and left for dead."

"Like that man on the disk." It was a statement rather than a question.

"That was Vincent Lurie; the man we believe was responsible for Debbie's death." Gil told her.

"Can I ask you something else?" At Grissom's nod, she continued. "I thought I recognized the voices of the other men who were on that recording."

"Jason and Kevin Beck."

"I though that's who they were." Clare said. "You said the accomplices were dead now, didn't you?"

Grissom nodded. "Kevin was shot and dumped by the side of the road and Jason was found a couple of days later in a motel room; he'd been beaten to death."

"Both of them were trouble, had been since they were kids but they didn't deserve that." She shook her head sadly. "Jason was probably the only friend Sean ever had."

Grissom barely heard her. Something else had occurred to him and he needed an answer to that before he went any further. Getting up, he headed back to the lounge and retrieved his wallet. Removing the photograph he kept there; he returned to the kitchen and handed it to Clare.

"Wow!" Clare exclaimed as she examined the picture. "If I didn't know better I'd swear that was Debbie."

"It's Sara." He told her. "I need to know if it's likely that Sean will go after her too."

Clare inhaled deeply as she considered the possibility. "I can't guarantee it but I'd be surprised if he did anything to hurt her. I imagine to him, that would be tantamount to harming Debbie and _that_ is something he would never have done."

Gil thought about it for a few minutes before shaking his head. "I don't think I can take that chance. Your mother left her house to both of you, right?"

"Yes, 50/50 split." Clare confirmed.

"Sean doesn't know that you suspect him of anything?"

"No, I've made sure that he doesn't." She lifted her hand to rest on her stomach. "I've got this one to think of."

"And you were serious about helping me?"

"Yes." Clare told him. "As far as I'm concerned my brother might as well have died the night Brian disappeared because he means nothing to me anymore. And I will do anything I have to do to make sure he has absolutely nothing to do with this child."

"Have you been inside that house lately?"

"No, Sean likes his privacy. When he's out of town, I keep an eye on it but only from the outside; part-owner or not, if he thought I'd gone inside, he'd go ballistic."

"But you do have a key?" He inquired.

"Of course."

"Good." Gil thought for a moment. "I'll have to go into town for an hour or so this morning to pick some things up but after that we can get started."

"Started with what?" Clare asked curiously.

"First of all, you're going to let me into that house; I need to know if there are any other disks." Grissom explained. "After I've searched the place, you're going to call Sean and let him know there's been a break-in. The only way I can really make sure Sara is safe is by getting him out of Vegas, so that's what I'm going to do."

"How can you be sure he'll come back here? There might not be other disks; there might not be anything in there at all."

"I'm pretty sure there will be." Gil told her. "That camera was set up especially to capture every minute of Lurie's ordeal, so Sean could take it home and relive his moment of glory over and over. I don't think he'd have just recorded that one time; I think he's probably recorded all of them."

"What if he's got them with him?" She asked.

"No, if he had them with him, he'd have known the Lurie disk was missing. They're somewhere in that house."

"And if he won't come back when I call him?" Clare took a sip from her cup.

"Oh, he'll come alright." Grissom told her with conviction. "Especially when you tell him it was me that broke in."

TBC


	34. Chapter 34

**Lex Talionis**

* * *

**A/N:** I don't really like putting a note at the start of a chapter but I decided an explanation was needed before you read this latest offering.

Due to the bushfire tragedy that has hit this country over the past week, my heart has really not been in this and I'm sure it's going to show. In fact, if most of it had not already existed in one form or another I doubt I would be posting at all. Although I no longer live in Victoria, I was born there and grew up not too far from many of the towns that have been destroyed so, I know the area well.

This chapter reads as very 'pedestrian' to me but as it is really the last of the set-up chapters I've decided to go ahead and post it just to get it out of the way. I could have played around with it some more but I doubt it would have gotten any better. So, I apologise in advance and promise to start fresh with number 35.

* * *

**Chapter 34**

Arriving back from his journey into town, Grissom emptied the small bag he was holding onto the table in front of Clare. His trip had taken longer than expected and he was anxious to get things underway.

"You said you'd do anything to help so we're going to start now." He said as he took the seat next to her. "Give me your finger."

"Why?" She asked warily as she watched him break open the small first aid kit he'd bought. He opened a packet containing a gauze pad and laid it on the table within easy reach.

"Because I need a blood sample from you and this is the easiest way I can think of to get one." He tore open an alcohol wipe and swabbed the blade of his pocket knife. Looking up, he noticed the look on her face. "Look, it'll be quick and clean, I promise. Under normal circumstances I'd take a buccal swab or draw blood but since I'm sending this by courier, I think this will be safer."

"Couldn't you just use a pin?" She asked as she eyed the implement in his hand.

"Yes, but this will be quicker and we're working to a deadline; I need everything ready to go by 4pm if I want to get it to Vegas tonight."

"Why do you need my blood anyway?"

"As it stands at the moment, we don't actually have much to tie Sean to any of these crimes; while I've got the chance I want to get as much evidence as I can and that includes a DNA sample from you. They found blood in the Beck's motel room that didn't belong to either of the brothers; with some luck, it's Sean's and as you're his sister, you share DNA with him." He held out his hand. "Trust me."

After giving him one last look, Clare put her hand in his then turned to look out of the window as he quickly drew the blade across her little finger. Grabbing the gauze, he held it against the wound for a minute before swapping the pad for a non-stick dressing. Clare turned back as he folded the gauze and sealed it in a small plastic bag then labeled it with her name and the date.

"I though we'd head over to the house after lunch, that should give me plenty of time to search it." Grissom said as he got up from the table and headed for the living room. Collecting the disk containing Lurie's torture, he carried it back and placed it and the blood sample in a large padded envelope. "As soon as we've finished there, we'll drop this off and it'll be on the 6pm flight to Vegas; Catherine will have it before the start of shift."

"When do you want me to phone Sean?" Clare asked as he sat back down.

"I don't want to call him too early; it's a seven hour drive from Vegas and I really don't want him turning up her at 2am." Grissom thought for a moment. "Then again, if we leave it too late he might get suspicious."

"I could always tell him one of his neighbors called me." Clare suggested. "They came home late and noticed a broken window or something; when I went round to check it out, I saw what had happened and called him straight away. If I phone at about 11 tonight, he wouldn't turn up here until 7am at the earliest."

Grissom smiled and nodded. "Perfect. You're sure you can get him to park where I need him to?"

"I'll block the front of the house with the pickup." She told him. "When he sees he can't park there he'll pull up at the barn; that's what he's always done in the past."

"We're all set then." Checking his watch, Gil grabbed his crutches and got up. "I'm just going to make a phone call then well have lunch and head off. Okay?"

"I'll get it ready." Clare said as she got to her feet. "Sandwiches do?"

"Fine; I'll be five minutes." Gil said as he opened the back door.

Heading across the yard to the barn, he stood in the doorway and stared at the interior for a moment glad to see that Clare had been right; there was plenty of room to get the Lexus inside and, with the doors shut, Sean would never know it was there. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he instantly remembered turning it off the night before. Turning it back on, he noticed the number of missed calls and speed-dialed Sara's number. When a recorded voice told him _her_ phone was switched off decided to try Catherine instead.

She picked up straight away. "Willows."

"Hey, Cath."

"Grissom? What the hell are you up to? Sara's been pulling her hair out all morning trying to get hold of you."

"Yeah, I turned my phone off and forgot to switch it back on. Do you know where she is?"

"She's at the hospital." Catherine told him. "Jim's is getting released and she's gone to pick him up."

"How's he doing?"

"He'll be fine. Dislocated elbow and a badly bruised hip; he was lucky."

"Yeah, he was." Grissom agreed. "So, find anything new?"

"You know I shouldn't be discussing this with you, don't you?"

"A bit late for that now." Grissom countered. "Come on; you show me yours and I'll show you mine."

"Well, someone's in a good mood." Catherine chuckled. "Alright, you win; first of all, turns out the Pathfinder been sitting in a self-storage facility on Nellis Boulevard. We conducted a door-to-door early this morning and found the place within an hour. The manager identified Tate from the picture on his driver's license. And, that's not all, Nick checked out the Impala that was used to run Jim down; both the rental agreement and the credit card used were in the name of Brian Ashton, also from Fernley. It looks like Tate may have another accomplice."

"No Cath, Brian's a victim." Gil told her. "He's Tate's brother-in-law, or at least he was until Sean murdered him. I'll check with Clare about the credit card but, at a guess, she just never thought about canceling it; she's had more than enough to deal with as it is."

"When the surname came up Sara said that you were in Fernley seeing a Clare Ashton in Fernley but she never said anything about her being Tate's sister."

"That's because she doesn't know yet." He said, as he took a seat on a nearby bale of hay. "There's something else, Cath; apparently Tate was an ADA in Reno until a few months ago. You're going to have to look into it; I think that might explain why you've had so much trouble finding anything on these guys. Working with the District Attorney's office, Tate himself should have been in the compliance database; I take it he isn't?"

"No, the only luck we've had with him was his license." Catherine told him. "We can't even find a vehicle registered in his name."

Grissom thought for a moment. "Try running Sean Sullivan; that's the name he initially gave to Sam Mercer. The information I have is that he's driving a black Subaru Forester but I don't know the tag number."

"And you're getting all of this information from his sister? Can she really be trusted?"

"She's here alone, Catherine. She's eight months pregnant and working herself into the ground because her husband went out one night to talk to her psychopath brother and never came home again. She's gone out of her way to help me so far and she's more than willing to keep doing that. If I didn't trust her I wouldn't be staying in the same house with her"

"You what?" Catherine wasn't entirely sure that she'd heard him correctly. "You're staying with the sister of the man who tried to kill you?"

"Yeah."

"And that doesn't seem even a little bit weird to you?"

"No, not at all." He told her honestly. "Clare gave me a DVD that she found Catherine; on it is a blow-by-blow recording of the last hour of Vincent Lurie's life. Tate is very careful to keep his back to the camera but both Beck brothers are shown clearly and I can positively identify Sean by his voice. She didn't _have_ to give me that disk; she did it because she wants justice for Brian and his child."

"Okay, you know best." Catherine commented. "And Sara doesn't know you're staying there?"

"Uh, no; not yet." Grissom replied. "I thought I might not mention it unless I really had to."

"That's probably wise." She advised with a smile. "Is that everything or have you got another surprise to drop on me?"

"There is something I need you to do for me."

"Okay, what is it?"

"I need to make sure that Sara is protected; I'm concerned that Tate may target her next so I need you to keep an eye on her for the rest of the day. I don't care how you manage it but now that Jim's out of commission, I need somebody able-bodied with her at all times."

"What do you mean by the rest of the day?" Catherine asked anxiously. "What about tomorrow? What's happening, Gil?"

"With some luck, Tate's about to leave Vegas." Grissom told her. "He just doesn't know it yet."

"What? Look, I have a hard enough time keeping up with what you're saying at the best of times but you're really losing me here."

"I'm going to let Tate know that I'm after him." Grissom said. "I'm pretty sure that he'll hightail it back to Fernley as soon as he finds out where I am."

"What? Catherine demanded. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"I've got a plan Cath, don't worry." Knowing either an interrogation or a lecture was coming, he didn't give her another chance to speak. "Look, I've got to go; there's something I've got to do before Tate gets here. I'm sending you a package, you should have it tonight. I got a blood sample from Clare; check it against the unknown at the motel. I'm also sending you the Lurie recording and any others that I can find. Go through them and see if there's anything useful. Tell Sara I called and I'll speak to her as soon as I can but please don't tell her any of this; I don't want her worried. I'll be in touch."

He hung up before Catherine could respond and turned his phone off again before putting it back in his pocket. Picking up his crutches, he stood and headed back to the house.

* * *

"Third driveway on your left." Clare directed as Grissom turned into the quiet street Sean lived on.

"It's a nice area." He commented as he pulled the Lexus to a halt.

"Yeah, Mom moved here after Dad died." She surveyed the now neglected front yard. "She loved it this place. Never had time for gardening when they were running the farm but she sure made up for here; she was always planting or pruning something. The house always seemed to be filled with vases of fresh flowers, all from her garden." She turned to look at the house. "God knows what's in there now."

"Well, give me the keys and I'll go and find out." Grissom held out his hand.

She smiled and shook her head. "Uh-uh, no way; I'm coming with you."

"Clare, we had an agreement."

"Yeah, like I was seriously going to let you go in there alone." She opened the car door and got out. "Half of this place belongs to me and this is the first chance I've had in months to see inside it; I am not passing that up."

With a resigned sigh, Grissom pulled his crutches from the back and got out of the SUV. He joined Clare at the front of the vehicle.

"What about the neighbors?"

"I'm pretty sure everyone works around here." Clare informed him, as they neared the front door. "Don't worry though, even if someone sees us they wouldn't tell Sean about it; none of them can stand him."

Before he could stop her, Clare had inserted her key and unlocked the door.

"Wait a second." Grissom held out a pair of latex gloves. "I really don't think he'll report any of this to the Sheriff but just in case, put these on before you go any further."

After pulling on a pair himself, he grabbed hold of the door handle but held it shut while he looked at his accomplice. "We're not going any further without ground rules."

"Alright." Clare conceded. "You're the expert."

"Yes, I am." Gil agreed. "Which is why I'll be the one conducting the search. You can look around all you like but if you see something suspicious, call me and don't touch, alright?"

Getting a nod of agreement, Grissom pushed the door open and entered the house. Compared to the yard, the interior was surprisingly well kept. Clare walked past him, headed towards the kitchen while Grissom turned right and entered the living room. Although the blinds were closed, enough light still entered the room for him to see comfortably.

A large plasma television dominated the room followed closely by the black leather sofa that sat opposite it. The only other furniture in the room consisted of a coffee table and several bookcases which appeared to be filled with a mixture of compact discs and DVDs, and a desk that sat in the corner. Taking a few steps into the room, Grissom turned to see the wall behind him and was surprised by the artwork that hung there.

"Hey, Clare?" He called. I think you're going to want to see this."

He stayed where he was until she entered the room, wanting to see her reaction to his discovery.

'Good God!" Clare exclaimed as she took in the array of photo frames that covered the wall; each containing a different image of Debbie Marlin.

"These aren't just from the time Debbie was in Fernley." Clare pointed out. "She's looks older in most of them."

Stepping in for a closer look, Grissom agreed. "The later ones look almost like surveillance photographs, none of them are posed, she had no idea they were being taken. He must have been following her around for years to get these."

As he continued to inspect the photos, Clare walked over to the coffee table and picked up a smaller frame.

"You know, I'm positive Debbie would have had nothing to do with Sean after she left Fernley; he'd already served his purpose and he had no money so he couldn't buy her with presents... " She turned the frame to face Grissom. "So, where did this come from?"

The photo Clare held out showed a smiling Debbie posing for the camera with Sean standing behind her, one arm curled possessively around her and his chin resting on her shoulder.

Taking the frame from her, Grissom examined it closely. "You and Debbie were the same age, right?" He looked up to see Clare nodding. "And Sean is younger than you, correct?"

"Yes, he's just over a year younger?"

Pulling out his glasses, Grissom stared closely at the image before looking up at Clare with a grin. "He photoshopped it."

"Excuse me?"

"It's a fake." He handed it back. "I wondered why he looked older than he should have and then I realized the whole thing looked familiar. The picture I saw was kept next to Debbie's jewelry box in her house, only in that one, the man behind her is Michael Clark, not Sean. He's substituted Clark's head for his own."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. It'll pass as the real thing from a distance but up close it's an obvious cut and paste." He watched as she continued to stare at the image. "Cover the face and then look at it; does that look like Sean's body?"

She did as instructed, then smiled. "You're right; it's not him. Wow, that's... creepy." Putting the frame back on the table, Clare turned her looked around the room. "You sure you don't want my help to search?"

"I'll get through it a lot quicker without you actually." Grissom told her as he moved towards the bookcases.

"Well, I'm going to check out the rest of the house then."

Hearing her make her way along the hall, Grissom started his search. Twenty minutes later, he was confident there was nothing to be found in the living room. The desk had been searched and the bookcases were empty; each disk having been examined before being added to the pile on the floor. He was about to make his way to the kitchen when he heard Clare call from the back of the house. Heading in that direction, he found her in the master bedroom surrounded but the contents of one of the bedside drawers.

"I thought you weren't going to touch anything?" He commented as she looked over at him.

She ignored the remark. "That first disk just had the man's initials on it, right?"

"Yes, it was marked VL."

"Do you know who MR is?" She held up the disk in her hand for him to see.

Grissom thought for a moment. "Lurie's attorney was named Richardson... Michael Richardson. He disappeared ten days or so before I was attacked. There's no other's in there?"

"No, just this one." She handed the disk to him. "I can keep looking if you like."

"You're going to do it whether I agree to it or not, aren't you?" Receiving a self-satisfied smile, he shrugged in defeat. "Okay, you start on the closet; I'll take the other drawers."

Since the bedsides were already empty, Grissom turned his attention to the highboy that sat opposite the end of the bed. On top sat a simple wooden box and arrayed in an arc behind it was a collection of eight silver picture frames, all displaying more doctored photos of Debbie and Sean together. Pulling the box towards him, Grissom opened it and examined the contents; more pictures, a single butterfly earring and, underneath it all, an empty condom wrapper. With a shiver of disgust, he shut the box and pushed it back in its place before starting on the drawers.

He found what he was looking for in the middle one; two more marked disks. Grissom took a deep breath and slowly let it out as he stared at the initials in front of him: BA and GG. As much as he had expected to find these particular disks, the reality of actually seeing them was a shock. He quickly covered them up again and slammed the drawer closed.

Clare turned at the sudden noise.

"No luck?" She asked as she watched him take a seat on the end of the bed.

"No... No, there's nothing there." Grissom replied, struggling to regain his composure.

Disappointed, Clare shook her head. "I can't find anything else either." She closed the closet door and came to sit beside him. He watched as she tried to smother a yawn.

Getting to his feet, Grissom moved to stand in front of her. "I think we've done enough Clare, you look tired; maybe we'll call it quits and head home."

"But, you were sure there'd be more recordings; we need to keep looking."

"We've got two." Grissom pointed out. "With that and the blood sample from you, I think we'll have more than enough." He helped her to her feet. "If you go wait for me in the car, I'll make it look like this place has been broken into and be out in a couple of minutes, okay?"

He followed behind her to the front door and waited until she was outside before locking it securely behind her. Alone in the house now, he returned to the bedroom and pulled the drawer open again. Throwing Sean's clothing on the floor, he retrieved the disks.

Ensuring they were secure in his jacket pocket, Grissom began pulling out each remaining drawer and dumping the contents on the bed. Turning his attention to the picture frames, he removing each photograph and tore it in half, stopping only when he got to the one that appeared to contain the most recent shot of Sean. This one he carefully folded and placed in his pocket beside the disks.

Turning to the closet, he yanked each item of clothing to the floor and pulled down each box from the top shelf, quickly sifting through the contents before upending them on the bed as well. He found nothing else of interest. The second bedroom was completely empty so he headed back towards the front of the house.

Entering the living room again, he pushed the piles of DVDs and CDs with his crutch, making sure he broke as many as he could in the process, and scattered them across the floor. Pulling each framed photograph down off the wall, he smashed them one-by-one against the corner of the desk before adding them to the mess. Then, bending slightly, he grabbed the edge of the coffee table and upended it. Pulling the drawers from the desk, he located a large envelope, wrote a quick note on the outside and sealed the last two disks inside. Placing it back in his pocket, he stood back to survey his work; there was just one thing left to do. Removing the crutch on his right, he turned it so that he could grip the lower shaft and swung as hard as he could at the television set.

It went down with a gratifying crash and Grissom found himself smiling as he made his way through the mess to the back door. Stepping outside, he shut the door behind him and used his crutch again, this time jabbing it through one of the small glass panes. Satisfied, he went down the steps and made his way back to the Lexus.

* * *

Clare was asleep in the front seat of the Lexus by the time he got there. Reaching into the back seat, he retrieved the padded envelope and slipped the three newly discovered disks inside along with Sean's photograph. He looked at his watch, surprised at how much time they'd actually spent at the house. Putting the SUV in gear, he headed back towards town.

As soon as the package was on its way to Catherine, he'd have done all he could for now.

What happened after that was going to be up to Clare and Sean.

TBC


	35. Chapter 35

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 35**

Catherine parked her car in the street outside the Platinum Hotel and quickly made her way into the building. Heading towards the elevators, she scanned her surroundings and was pleased to note the high number of surveillance cameras visible in the area. She had been assured by her contacts in the casino industry that security at this particular establishment was some of the best available, especially when you took into account the fact that the Platinum was non-gaming and, as such, actually had less to worry about than most hotels in town.

Knocking quickly on the door to 1902, she waited patiently for it to be answered. Hearing movement coming from inside, she was expecting Brass to open the door open but was taken by surprise when she was greeted by Ray O'Riley.

"Hey, O'Riley." She smiled warmly at the ex-detective. "I wasn't expecting to see you here; I'd have thought you got enough excitement yesterday to last you for a while."

"Yeah, I'm not used to that anymore." He said as he held the door open wide for her to enter. "I just thought I'd drop by and see how he's doing."

"Yeah, you and everybody else." Jim called from the lounge area. "I haven't had five minutes to myself since I got back here."

Heading towards the voice, Catherine smiled as he came into view. Seated on the large modular lounge, Brass had his left leg up on the coffee table in front of him as he attempted to juggle the TV remote and a can of soda with one hand.

"I take it you're responsible for the tag-team visitors I've had all afternoon." He commented as she approached.

"Sorry about that." Catherine said as she took a seat at the other end of the couch. "Gil wanted to make sure that there was someone with Sara at all times today; he was concerned about Tate trying something. Warrick thought that the best way to do it was by using you as a cover so they took it in shifts."

Brass frowned. "Gil was expecting something to happen?"

"Um... yeah; kind of." Catherine opened the file she had brought with her. "Look, are you up to going over some things with me? I could really do with your advice."

"Of course; what have you got?"

O'Riley stood up. "I should leave."

"No, Ray; you don't have to go." Catherine gestured for him to sit again. "Vartann filled you in on everything when he asked to get involved anyway so you might as well hear this." Lifting up a photograph, she held it out for Jim to take.

"That's the most recent shot of Sean Tate that we have. A package from Grissom arrived a couple of hours ago; that was part of the contents."

Jim stared at the picture then shook his head. "Can't say I've seen him around."

Moving so he could see the picture, O'Riley instantly recognized the face.

"Hey, he was in the hardware store when you were there with Sara."

"Are you sure?" Jim asked looking at the photo again.

"Yeah, I saw him a couple of times." Ray told him. "In fact, he's the guy you moved your shopping cart for while we were talking in the aisle."

"Shows you how observant I am, doesn't it?" Brass asked. "First he stands beside me then he runs me down and I don't see him either time." He slowly shook his head, and then looked at Catherine. "What else have you got in there?"

"Well, we finally have some background on him." She said as she picked up the report she had spent the afternoon working on. "Three years ago, he was an associate in a firm of criminal defense lawyers in Carson City. According to the people I spoke to, he was doing so well that he was being fast-tracked for partnership when, suddenly, he announced that he was quitting. He told them that he'd spent too long helping the guilty get off; he couldn't do it anymore."

"Wow, a defense attorney with a conscience." O'Riley commented.

"That's around the time that Debbie Marlin was killed, right?" Jim asked.

"Yeah." Catherine replied. ""Not long after that, he moved to Reno and began working for the DA's office. His colleagues there describe him as quiet but dedicated, the only time they saw him get riled up was when someone got off; he couldn't stand the thought of someone getting off scot-free." She took a quick breath. "However, it seems that his desire to punish the guilty applied to everyone except his friends. Jason Beck was arrested for assault in Reno but when the file was sent to the DA's office, the charges were dropped because the ADA handling the case decided there was insufficient evidence to prosecute."

"Do I need to guess who the ADA was?" Jim asked facetiously.

"No." Catherine smiled. "The arresting officers weren't happy and decided to take it higher and that's when they realized what was going on. They checked everything again and discovered that Tate had been 'fixing' things for both Jason and Kevin Beck ever since he'd started there. Tate was fired and they've been trying to keep it quiet ever since. They're worried that if it became public knowledge, every case that Sean Tate had been even remotely involved in would be open to appeal."

"You can sort of understand why they tried to hide it." O'Riley said.

"What they didn't realize until I pointed it out to them this afternoon was that Tate had been steadily removing all records of himself and the Beck brothers from the system; fingerprints, DNA, the works – they're all gone." Catherine flipped through the file. "I only found the registration for Tate's Subaru because Gil told me to run the name he'd used in Ely."

"You gave that to Vartann, right?" Brass checked.

"Yeah, there's a BOLO out on it now." Catherine took a deep breath. "The problem is that Tate may not even be in Vegas at the moment."

"What makes you say that?"

"Gil told me he plans on letting Tate know where he is; for all I know he's done it already."

"What!" Jim exclaimed. "Why the hell would he do that?"

"There's more." Catherine told him as she picked up the next set of photos from the file. "Grissom's staying with Tate's sister; apparently, she's helping him."

"I knew him going up there alone was mistake." Jim closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. "He called Sara just before she left for work. She told me how happy he was that the townhouse was finally on the market and that he'd probably be back in the next couple of days; she never mentioned anything about this though."

"He doesn't want her to know." Catherine explained. "He said she'd only worry."

"Doesn't stop him worrying us though, does it? Do we know what he going to do when Tate gets there?"

"No, all he said was that he had a plan." Catherine shrugged. "There's one more thing, Jim." She held out the pictures and watched him turn pale as he slowly went through them.

"Where did these come from?" Brass asked flatly.

"Tate made recordings." She told him. "Gil found four of them; Vincent Lurie, Michael Richardson, Tate's brother-in-law and the one those stills were taken from. Archie and I have been locked in A/V going over them ever since they arrived."

"Did Gil watch them?" Jim handed the photos to O'Riley, glad to have them out of sight.

"I know he's seen the Lurie one, I'm not sure about the others." She gave an involuntary shiver. "I hope to God he didn't."

Ray silently flicked through the photographs and then got up and handed them back to Catherine. Both she and Brass watched as the ex-detective headed straight for the bar and helped himself to some scotch. Retaking his seat, he took a gulp.

"Sorry, like I said before, I'm out of practice." He told them sheepishly.

Catherine gave him an understanding smile before turning once again to Brass.

"My real question is what to do about Sara. I don't particularly want to lie to her about this."

"You've tried getting him on the phone again?"

"Yeah, I think he's only turning it on when he makes a call." She told him. "I've left voicemail but he hasn't called back."

Jim thought for a moment then sighed. "We're going to have to tell her." He stated decisively. "I doubt he'd take a call from me either so Sara's probably the only one that stands a chance of reining him in. Do you know where she is just now?"

"I teamed her up with Warrick for the night; they were working a home invasion when I left to come here."

"Give her a call; tell her we need her back here now." Brass said looking over at the kitchen to check the time. "Even if Grissom has been dumb enough to try and lure Tate, there's no way he's made it to Fernley yet. We might still be able to nip this in the bud."

* * *

Lying awake on top of her bed, Clare Ashton listened to the sounds coming from downstairs and guessed Grissom was in the process of filling the coffeemaker. Turning her head to look at the clock, she saw it was almost 4am and, after receiving yet another vigorous kick to the ribs, knew it was time to get up.

Ten minutes later, she entered the kitchen to find Grissom sitting at the table, laptop in front of him and Murphy sound asleep at his feet.

"Do you ever actually sleep?" Clare asked as she sank onto the chair opposite.

"On occasion." Gil told her with a quick smile. "Madam wake you up again?"

"Her and the smell of coffee wafting up the stairs." She eyes Gil's full cup. "God, I'd kill for one of those!"

"Not a chance." Grissom slid his mug out of reach before getting up from the table. "What do you want; I'll get it for you."

"If I can't have coffee I'll settle for orange juice." Clare replied as he made his way to the refrigerator. "So, are you and Sara planning on having kids?"

"I don't know; we've never discussed it." Gil responded as he placed a glass in front of her and poured the juice. Leaving the bottle on the table, he returned to his seat. "We did discuss getting a dog at some stage though."

Clare gave a quick laugh. "Well, it's a start, I guess." She watched as his attention returned to the laptop. "How can you be so calm when you know that Sean will be here in just a few hours?"

Grissom shrugged. "It's out of my hands now; the next move's up to him." He looked across the table at her. "You're still worried?"

"Kind of hard not to be." She replied. "You know, there's a difference between suspecting that your brother is capable of murder and knowing for sure. I've spent the past few months acting as though nothing had changed between us but now that I really know the truth I'm not sure that I'm going to be able to do it."

"Sure you are." Grissom assured her. "Just remember, I only need access to his car for five minutes. If you can get him in the house and keep him away from the kitchen window, it'll be over in no time."

"And you're sure this is the best way to go about it? Maybe we should call the Sheriff's Department."

"This is the same Sheriff's Department that refused to believe that your husband was missing and implied that your brother could do no wrong." Grissom pointed out. "You really want to hand this over to them?"

"No, I guess not." She conceded. "But look at us; you can't walk and I'm the size of a house. What happens if something goes wrong?"

"Everything will go like clockwork." Grissom reached over and placed his hand over hers, hoping he sounded more confident than he actually was. "My priority now is to get him as far from you and that baby as possible before anything goes down, so I want him in and out of here as quickly as possible. If I can get that tracking device on his car and follow him back to Vegas, I can find out where he's been hiding and then call in backup."

Looking at the array of hardware sitting on the table next to the computer, Clare reached over and picked up the transmitter.

"So you just put this on the car?" She asked as she examined it closely.

"Yeah, you just switch it on, attach it magnetically and you're in business. He'll never know it's there." Gil picked up the small plastic box that came with it. "The data logger will keep a record of everywhere he goes but I can also plug the USB receiver into the laptop and get a real-time trace on him. That way I can follow him from a distance without being spotted. I've already loaded the software so it's all ready to go."

"Is that what you've been doing in here all night?"

"Not quite." Grissom answered. "I spent some time online checking out the research being done on the insect life around here and ordered a couple of things I came across. I've also sent an email to a friend detailing everything that's happened here; just in case." He looked up and caught the flash of renewed anxiety in her eyes. "It's just a precaution, okay?"

He watched as she snuck yet another look at the kitchen clock, it was the third time he'd seen her do it. Copying her movement, Grissom could see that it was way too early for Sean to make an appearance but decided that keeping Clare occupied was probably in her best interests. He shut down the laptop and began packing it away.

"Come on; it's time to get ready."

* * *

An hour later, Gil sat on the floor of the barn beside the back door and waited patiently for Tate's arrival. Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket he turned it on and placed it, along with his gun, on the ground beside him; he hoped he wouldn't need either of them but wanted them ready just in case.

With the doors closed, the heat in the building was beginning to rise and he wiped the sweat from his face as he listened to the rain falling outside. It had begun fifteen minutes ago and Grissom was glad he'd taken the precaution of wrapping his lower leg in a trash bag; the last thing he needed to deal with just now was a wet cast.

Now that the time was so close, he just wanted it over with and found himself hoping that Tate turned up early. Once again, he checked his watch then felt his pocket, reassuring himself that the transmitter was safe. He heard snuffling coming from the doorway beside him and smiled; Clare had left Murphy outside, telling Gil that since Sean was one of the few people the dog hated, she'd be sure to let them know the minute his car turned into the driveway.

Resting his head back against the wall, Grissom could do nothing more but wait. Ten minutes later, he jumped as his cell phone rang. Checking the caller ID, he decided to take the call.

* * *

Warrick and O'Riley stood together in the kitchen of the hotel suite and watched as Catherine and Brass urged Sara to take a seat on the couch.

Jim kept an eye on her as she listened to everything Catherine had to say. Although she never said a word, Brass was aware of the change in her body language and silently thanked God that he wasn't going to be on the receiving end of the tempest that was brewing. When Catherine finally came to a stop, he waited for the first outburst but it never came. Instead Sara pulled out her cell phone and silently began to dial. Everyone was surprised when it was actually answered.

"Hey, honey." Grissom answered cheerfully. "What are you doing calling so early?"

"I have some time to kill so I just thought I'd see if you were up." Everyone in the hotel suite knew that Sara's pleasant tone belied the anger she was feeling.

"Yeah, I've been up for awhile." Gil replied. "Slow shift?"

"Not really, no." Sara told him. "A domestic that went bad, you know what they can be like." She gave a hollow laugh. "Just think, it could have all been avoided if he'd just told her the truth." Grissom was silent so she continued. "So, what have you got planned for today?"

He hesitated slightly; picking up on something in her voice. "Uh... I'm not too sure; I thought I'd just wait and see what turned up."

Brass watched as a cold smile appeared on Sara's face. "You're being very careful not to lie to me, aren't you Gil?"

"I'm not sure what you mean." He replied cautiously.

" 'Wait and see what turned up', huh? I bet I can guess what, or should I say who, you're waiting for." Sara's tone hardened.

Grissom sighed. "Catherine told you."

"Yes." Sara spat. "Now, what the hell is going on?"

The sound of deep growling came from just outside the barn door. Gil held the phone away from his ear as he listened to the dog.

"Grissom?"

The growls turned to barks and Grissom pulled the phone back towards him.

"I'm sorry, honey; I have to go." He said quickly.

"Don't you dare hang up on me, Gilbert Grissom!" Sara demanded. "I need to know what's happening."

"You don't understand, Sara." Gil said quietly into the phone. "It's too late now; he's here."

TBC


	36. Chapter 36

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 36**

Quickly switching his phone to silent, Grissom placed it back down on the floor beside him and watched as it began to vibrate with another incoming call almost straight away. He ignored it as he heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up at the side of the barn.

Murphy's barking became louder and more menacing as the car's engine was turned off; from the sound it, the dog was circling the Subaru and Grissom smiled to himself at the thought of Tate trapped in his own vehicle. He strained to hear anything over the noise of both the dog and the rain that was still falling. Gil only just managed to pick up the hum of a window going down.

"Clare!" Tate's strident yell was meant to be heard from the house and Grissom flinched at the sound. He reached down for the pistol and flicked the safety off as he held it ready in his right hand.

"Clare!" Tate tried again. "If you don't get out here now and tie this fucking dog up I swear it'll never bark at anything again."

"You touch my dog and it'll be the last time you bark too." Clare promised as she rounded the corner, umbrella in one hand and a short rope in the other. "And you can lose the attitude while you're at it. I'm sure you're upset about what's happened at the house but don't think you can turn up here and take it out on me!"

Looking suitably chastened, Tate sat back in his seat and let his sister get on with it.

"Come here, Murph." Clare called as the dog passed by the rear bumper. To her surprise Murphy ignored her and continued up the side of the car until she positioned herself between the Subaru and the side door of the barn. Turning to face the vehicle, Murphy sat and glared at Sean as she stopped her barking and started up with a low, ominous growl.

"What the hell is wrong with that thing?" Tate asked as he kept an eye on the dog. "It doesn't normally ignore you."

"_She_ doesn't like you, Sean." Clare stated evenly as she walked up to the driver's door. "I thought you'd have worked that out by now." Reaching over towards the dog, she took hold of her collar. "I've got a mare in the barn that's about to foal; I guess Murphy sees you as a threat."

Pulling the animal away, Clare finally managed to slip the rope through the collar and tied her to a nearby fencepost, hoping Sean wouldn't notice how loose the knot was. Since Murphy obviously knew where Grissom was and intended protecting him, Clare had no intention of stopping her. With some luck, she'd be able to get Sean into the house before the dog pulled free.

Hearing the Subaru's door slam shut, Clare turned to face her brother.

"You've been to the house?" Clare asked as he approached.

"Yeah, the bastard destroyed almost everything." Sean came to a stop, making sure he was well clear of Murphy. "What did he say to you when he was here?"

"Nothing really." Clare's voice was remarkably calm. "He asked if I knew where you were and when I told him I didn't have a clue, he gave me a business card and asked me to get in touch if I heard from you."

"Describe him" Tate demanded.

"Fiftyish, graying hair, oh, and he was on crutches; looked like he'd been in an accident recently." Clare told him. "Look, are you even sure it was him? The condition that guy was in, I can't really see him breaking into someone's house and vandalizing it."

"Oh, it was him alright." Sean replied. "And believe me; he'll pay for it, one way or another."

Clare felt a shiver run through her as she saw the intense hatred in her brother's eyes. He didn't fail to notice it.

"Are you cold?"

"A little." She responded as she pulled her jacket tighter around herself. "The card he left is inside somewhere; come in and I'll get it for you."

"No, I don't have time for that." Sean's agitation was growing. "I have to get back and sort out the house and then I have to head south again. Do you remember what he was driving?"

Clare ignored him. "Sean, I'm eight months pregnant; there is no way I am standing out here in the rain while you play twenty questions. If you want to know anything else you're going to have to come into the house cause that's where I'm going."

She turned and started making her way to the back door, pleased when she heard her brother following along behind. Pulling open the door, she allowed him to pass her before she threw one last look at the barn and then, as planned, she slammed the door forcibly behind her, hoping that Grissom would hear it above the sound of the rain.

* * *

"Dammit!" Sara exclaimed as she dialed again. Holding the phone to her ear she listened as it just rang. "He's not answering."

"What did he say?" Catherine asked.

"That Tate was there and he had to go then he hung up on me." She tried calling again. "It's just ringing."

"Okay." Jim stood up. "If you want, I can give the sheriff up there a call and have him send someone out."

Sara held up a hand. "Hang on; let me try something else first." Getting up, she moved to the dining table and began searching through the paperwork that still littered one end of it. "God, where's that damn number?"

Warrick left the kitchen and joined her at the table.

"If you'd calm down a little you'd probably have more luck." He advised as he pulled some of the paperwork closer. "If you tell me whose number you're searching for, I'll give you a hand."

"Clare Ashton's." Sara told him. "I know it's in here somewhere."

* * *

Hearing the door slam, Grissom placed the gun back down. Clare may have doubted herself earlier but she had definitely come through, as had Murphy. Shifting position, he eased the side door open and looked outside.

The Subaru was parked six feet away directly opposite the doorway and Gil smiled at the sight; Tate couldn't have parked in a better spot.

Carefully getting onto his knees, he tried moving forward only to be stopped by the stab of pain that shot through his thigh. He'd learned from his internet research that, had it not been for his ankle, Gary Morgan would have had him up and walking on the pinned femur already and had hoped it would have been able to take his weight by now but that was obviously not going to be the case.

Weighing up his options, Grissom realized that there was only one other way to do it.

Keeping his left leg up off the ground as much as possible, Gil shifted until he was clear of the door then turned and lay down on his back. Reaching back, he grabbed hold of the frame of the Subaru and pulled himself underneath the vehicle. He shifted down until he was nearer the back wheel then turned his head and looked towards the house, pleased that there was no sign of movement visible at the kitchen window.

Removing the transmitter from his pocket, he slipped it out of its plastic bag and turned it on; a small red light blinked into life. Pleased that everything was going to plan, Grissom was looking for the best place to attach it when he felt his leg being pushed roughly to one side.

Dropping the device, he grabbed hold of the chassis again in an automatic attempt to pull himself fully under the car and away from danger when he realized what was happening.

"Murphy!" He gasped in relief as the large dog tried desperately to jam her body under the vehicle beside him. Wriggling madly, she finally managed it and lay, happily wagging her tail as Gil reached down to pat her. "You trying to give me a heart attack, girl?"

He felt round until he located the abandoned transmitter and then, reaching up, positioned it behind the rear suspension. Giving it an experimental tug to check the magnet's strength, he was confident that it was both securely attached and out of sight.

Grabbing hold of the bottom sill of the car, he began working his way back out from under the Subaru, encouraging the dog to follow him as he went. Knowing he had taken longer than expected, Gil quickly pulled himself across the gap between the car and the barn.

Delighted at this new game, Murphy quickly pushed past him and sat inside waiting to see what came next; she was disappointed when her collar was grabbed and she was pushed forcibly back outside with the door closing firmly behind her.

Leaning back against the wall, Grissom listened to the dog's whining as he tried to regain his breath.

* * *

Hustling Sean through the kitchen and into the living room, Clare urged him to take a seat on the couch while she hurried to get him a drink.

"What's wrong with sitting in the kitchen?" He called as she quickly poured him a coffee.

"My back can't take the chairs at the moment." She replied as she entered the room. Putting his cup down on the coffee table, she handed him the business card that Grissom had given her earlier. "You will be in town for the birth, won't you? You're the only family I have around here now that Brian's gone."

"I don't know, Clare." She was gratified to see that he actually looked uncomfortable at the mention of his brother-in-law's name. "I've got to get this business finished, I told you that before."

"Well, can't you at least put it off for a couple of weeks? I could really do with some help around here."

He slipped Grissom's card into his shirt pocket. "No. I'm going to check around town first but if this guy's left already then I have to head back today."

"You just drove seven hours non-stop getting here; you need to rest before you go back." Clare said as she sat opposite him.

"Forget it, Clare." Sean snapped. "This has _got_ to be finished now; it's gone on too long already."

Ever since they were children, Clare had been able to either bully or cajole her brother into doing pretty much anything she wanted but the look on his face now made her realize just how careful she was going to have to be; it was obviously not going to take much to push him further than she really wanted him to go.

"Well, at least get a couple of hours sleep before you go; you'll be an accident waiting to happen otherwise." She frowned as the phone rang. "Hang on a second." Picking up the cordless handset, Clare answered it.

"Hello."

"Is this Clare Ashton?"

"Yes." Clare answered cautiously. "Who's this?"

"My name is Sara Sidle." Came the reply. "I'm trying to get hold of Gil Grissom; I believe he's staying with you."

Clare could see that Sean was paying attention. "Um... yes, that's right."

"Thank God. Look, it's really important that I speak to him."

"I'm sorry; that's impossible at the moment."

"But..."

"No, I really can't help you just now. Sorry." Clare hung up and shrugged at her brother. "Telemarketer; they won't take no for an answer, will they?"

"I can't sit around here any longer." Sean put his cup down and grabbed his car keys. "I need to find this bastard. Now, what kind of car is he driving?"

Clare thought a moment before answering. "Um... it was a green sedan; Ford, I think."

He stared at her incredulously. "That's the best you can do? I though you knew cars?"

"Sean, the guy turned up out of the blue, asked a couple of questions and then went away again; if I'd known what was going to happen, I would have paid more attention. I was busy at the time so count yourself lucky that I noticed the car at all, alright?"

"What about where he was staying? Did he mention that?"

"No." She answered somewhat patronizingly. "I imagine he booked into one of the motels in town though." She took a breath. ""So, if you're going to be leaving again; what do you want me to do about the house? I could clean it all up and handle the police report for you if you'd like."

"No! Stay out of the house; I don't want you anywhere near it." Sean stated emphatically. "And I don't want the police involved at all; I'll handle this myself."

"You know, if he really was the person that broke in, you can't let him get away with it." Clare decided to risk just a little more pushing. "Just because he works in law enforcement down in Vegas doesn't mean he can come up here and vandalize someone's property. Why is he doing this anyway?"

"It doesn't matter; just forget about it." Sean said as he started towards the kitchen. "Besides, he's not going to get away with anything, believe me. You're sure about the car he was driving?"

"Yes, it was definitely a green Ford sedan." Checking her watch, Clare hoped she'd managed to give Grissom enough time. Moving past Sean, she headed for the kitchen window and looked out. Checking the barn, she could see nothing out of the ordinary. Switching her view to the fence post, she grinned as she saw that the dog was missing. She turned back to her brother.

"The dog's loose again." She told him as she shrugged into her jacket. "Give me a couple of minutes and I'll make sure it's safe for you to come out."

Standing by the back door, Clare waited until Sean had reluctantly taken a seat at the table before closing it behind her and going down the steps. Pleased with herself, she couldn't help but smile as she made her way over to the barn.

* * *

Sara slammed her phone down on the table.

"If one more damn person hangs up on me today, I'll-"

"What did she say?" Brass asked cutting her off.

"She didn't say a damn thing." Sara started to pace. "She admitted that he's staying there but then she tells me she can't help me at the moment and hangs up. What help? I didn't ask for her help; I wanted to speak to Grissom."

"Sound like she was covering to me." Warrick offered. Sara stopped her pacing to glare at him. "Her brother's there at the moment, right? For all we know, he was standing right beside her when she took your call."

"Warrick's right, Sara." Jim said as she took a seat next to him. "From what I've heard, Gil trusts her; maybe we should too."

"So what? We just wait until this is over?" Sara shook her head. "I don't think I can do that, Jim."

"I can still make that call to the sheriff if you want." He offered.

"He's come this far, Sara." The more she thought about it, them more Catherine wondered if they were panicking prematurely. "If it wasn't for Gil, we'd still probably be stumbling around not knowing who we were looking for. The official investigation was going nowhere then, in less than a week, Grissom gets us a name and a motive. The only thing that's left now is finding out where Tate is and from the sound of things, he's been working on that too. You've got to believe that he knows what he's doing."

Seeing that Sara was thinking about it, Catherine pressed her point.

"If we call the sheriff in and it turns out that wasn't any real reason to do it, not only is Grissom going to be angry but Conrad's sure to find out about it and the last thing we want to do is hand him even more ammunition. Besides, Gil's not about to allow a pregnant woman take any risks so I think it's fair to say that he won't put himself in any unnecessary danger either. Be as mad at him as you like Sara but you've got to admit his methods have worked so far."

Sara sat still, head bowed as she considered what had just been said. Finally she looked up and sighed deeply. "Alright; ten more minutes; that's all I'm willing to wait. If he hasn't been in touch before then I'll try calling him again; if he still doesn't answer, we call the sheriff. Agreed?"

Catherine smiled at her as she nodded. "Agreed."

* * *

As expected, Clare found Murphy, once again, standing guard at the side door. Now that the rain had gone off, the drag marks in the mud going between the building and the Subaru were obvious and Clare quickly swept her foot over the area, successfully obliterating the only evidence of Grissom's recent trip.

Picking up the rope still attached to the dog's collar, Clare praised the animal then stood upright again. She never noticed Murphy start to tense as she moved closer to the door and rapped her knuckles against it.

"It's almost over." She said, keeping her voice as low as possible. "I'll be back in five minutes, okay?"

She jumped at the voice that came from directly behind her.

"Who the hell are you talking to?"

TBC

**A/N:** I'm sorry. I tried to restrain myself with that ending, I really did but that last bit was just begging to be written and, apparently, I have absolutely no self-control.

Thanks for reading and a special thanks to my reviewers; I really do appreciate you all.


	37. Chapter 37

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 37**

Grissom was still seated on the floor of the barn when Clare spoke to him through the closed door. He was about to answer her when he heard Tate's voice just outside.

Grabbing his cell phone, he shoved it into his back pocket before thrusting the Smith & Wesson 9mm into its holster. With one hand on the wall and the other grasping his crutches, Gil quickly and carefully stood up and positioned himself beside the door. Taking the gun back out, he held it at the ready as he quietly slid the latch until it was only just holding the door closed; with one quick push he could have it wide open at a moment's notice. However, knowing that Clare was standing between him and his target, he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

* * *

Trying desperately to hide her dismay, Clare turned to face her brother.

"I was talking to the horse." She said, hoping her voice sounded normal. "I already told you, she's about to foal."

"I don't think so." Sean sneered. "Get out of the way; I want to see inside the barn."

Clare shook her head. "No; I am not having you go in there and upset that animal."

"You were _not_ talking to a damn horse, Clare; give me some credit." Tate's tone had taken on a menacing quality that chilled his sister to the bone. "Now, are you going to get out of my way or not?" He started moving closer.

A low growl from Murphy served to remind him of her presence and he stopped where he was. Looking down at the dog, standing protectively in front of her mistress, Sean's face broke into a cold grin. He held out his hand. "Give me the rope, Clare."

"Why?" She quickly put the hand holding Murphy's lead behind her back.

"Because that fucking dog's in the way." He spat as he took another step nearer. "It's got to go."

"I told you earlier what I'd do if you touched her." Clare's fear was beginning to turn to anger. She pulled Murphy closer to her side. "Don't think I didn't mean it."

"What do you think you're going to do to me?" Sean's eyes dropped down until they settled on her belly. "One push and I could have you flat on your back; I'd have sorted that animal out _and_ been in the barn before you even pulled your ass up out of the mud."

"Yeah, that's about your level, isn't it, Sean? Pregnant women and defenseless animals." Clare shook her head in disgust. "I wonder what our parents would think of the man you've turned into. Or how about Debbie Marlin? How would she feel about you now?"

She never even saw Sean move. One minute she was standing talking and the next she was pressed to the barn door with his hand around her throat. She felt Murphy wedged between the back of her legs and the wood of the door and prayed that the frightened dog wouldn't panic; if she managed to force her way out Clare knew that the only thing holding her upright would be her brother's hand.

"Shut the hell up!" Sean snarled as he held her against the door. "I don't give a fuck what anybody thinks of me but if you ever mention Debbie's name again, I'll kill you." He stared directly into Clare's eyes, as he placed his free hand on the mound of her stomach. "And the little bastard that you're carrying."

* * *

Hearing the threats Tate made followed by the thump against the door, Grissom knew it was time to intervene. Turning so that he stood directly in front of the door, he shoved the latch fully across and pushed. The door refused to open. Trying again, it shifted less than a quarter inch before quickly shutting again; without the use of both legs, he couldn't get enough of his weight behind him to force the door open.

Frustrated, he jammed the pistol in its holster and was about to start towards the large double doors when he was stopped by the sound of Clare's voice. Her tone had changed and there was now absolutely no sign of fear as she responded to her brother.

* * *

"Get... your... hand... off... me!" Clare demanded as she met Sean's icy gaze with one of her own.

He gave a cold laugh. "Or what?"

Clare had felt slight movement in the door behind her and knew Grissom wanted out but she was not about to allow Sean to get away with threatening her child. If he wanted to try and intimidate her, she was more than capable of playing him at his own game.

"Or I'll start asking questions about my husband's disappearance again; only this time I'll demand that they take me seriously when I tell them what I think happened." She felt the pressure on her throat begin to ease and saw the shock register in her brother's eyes. "What? Did you seriously think I didn't suspect you?" She gave a little laugh. "God Sean, there was no way known I was ever going to believe that Brian had run off with someone else. And you were the last person to see him; I _can _put two and two together you know."

She saw the color drain from his face as he finally let her go. Taking a step backwards, his eyes darted away from hers. "What are you going to do?"

"Get off my property right now and I won't do anything." She ran her hand across her throat, knowing she was going to have bruises. "I want you off my land, I want you out of Mom's house; in fact, I want you out of Fernley altogether. Go play your little games, Sean, go find your friend from Vegas, I don't care anymore. Do whatever the hell you want; just as long as it's nowhere near me or my child."

She held her arms protectively around her stomach. "I'm too tired to deal with revenge just now, but I swear, if I ever see you again then absolutely nothing will stop me. One way or another you _will_ pay for what you've done."

His eyes, burning with anger and defiance, snapped back to meet hers. "I'll go." He spat as he tried to stare her down. "I'll leave the house, I don't need the damn thing anymore anyway but just remember; you still need my signature to sell it and that's one piece of paper I'll never sign. You can rent it out if you like but that still won't pull in the kind of money you need to make this place survive. One way or another, you and your brat will get exactly what you deserve."

Clare stared for a moment longer, and then wearily shook her head. "Get in your car and go." She instructed as she held Murphy by her side.

Keeping his eyes locked on hers, Sean moved to the car and was about to get in when Clare loosened the hold she had on Murphy's rope. Instantly, the dog darted forward and sank her teeth deeply into Tate's calf. His roar of pain was almost drowned out by the excitable barking of the animal as Clare tried to pull her back to heel.

Seated in the car now, Sean clutched at his bleeding leg. "What the fuck did you let it do that for?"

"Let's call it a preview of what will happen to you if you ever turn up here again." Clare reached down to pat the dog. "Besides, I figure Murph deserves some payback for all the abuse you've aimed at her over the years. Now, shut the door, start the car and get the hell off my property."

She watched as the Subaru reversed back and then accelerated down the driveway. Bending down, she undid the rope and let Murphy barrel off after the vehicle, knowing the dog would delight in 'chasing' the car off her land.

With a shuddering sigh, Clare turned towards the door just in time to see it open. Taking a few unsteady steps, she almost fell against Grissom as he came out of the barn. He wrapped one arm around her as he heard her begin to sob. Both of her arms went around his waist and grabbed hold of the back of his shirt.

"It alright now; it's all over." He said as he felt the tremors that ran through her body. Looking around, he could see nowhere they could sit down so settled for just holding her as she cried herself out.

A few minutes later, he could feel her beginning to relax against him as her sobs trailed off. He was about to suggest taking a seat in the barn when he felt the phone in his back pocket begin to vibrate. Pulling it out, he checked the screen and then answered the call.

"Hey, honey."

"Is everything okay?" Sara asked cautiously.

"It's fine." He assured her, watching as Murphy came flying around the corner only to skid to a halt at their feet. He felt one of Clare's hands release his shirt as she put it down to rest on the dog's head. "It's over and everyone's okay. Could I call you back in half an hour or so? I'm standing out here soaking wet and covered in mud and I'd really kill for a shower." He heard Clare laugh softly as she finally let go of him and stepped back. She crouched down to praise the dog as Grissom quickly finished the call.

"You alright?" He asked as he slipped the phone back into his pocket.

With an embarrassed smile, Clare nodded "I'm fine; it just got a bit... intense there for a little while."

"You were brilliant, Clare." Grissom held out his hand and helped to pull her upright. "I thought it was all set to go down here when the threats started but you handled him perfectly."

"I was scared to death right up to the point that he threatened the baby; he wasn't getting away with that." Clare said as they both moved towards the house. Reaching the steps, she slowly made her way up to the door. "You got the transmitter on the car alright?"

"Yep, nice and secure." Grissom followed her into the house. "As soon as I've changed clothes we'll boot up the laptop and make sure it's working."

"It damn well better be after all that." She sank down onto one of the dining chairs. "You go up and have that shower. I'll make us some breakfast; I think we deserve it, don't you?"

Just as he was about to leave the kitchen, Grissom turned back to face her. "No regrets? He is your brother after all."

Clare shook her head. "No, he _was_ my brother. If I learned anything this morning it's that the Sean I knew doesn't exist anymore." She gave him a tired smile. "Now go; you're dripping mud all over the floor."

* * *

Everyone watched as Sara put the phone down on the coffee table and let out a huge sigh of relief.

"He's fine, they both are; Tate's gone." For the first time all morning, a smile lit up her face. "He'll call back in half an hour, he wants to have a shower first; God knows what he's been doing but as long as he's safe, I don't care."

Standing beside O'Riley, Warrick leaned towards the ex-detective. "How about we rustle up some coffee for everyone, Ray?"

Keeping an eye on the three people seated on the large sofa, O'Riley nodded towards Sara. "You really think she needs a stimulant after all that?"

Warrick gave a quick laugh. "No, probably not but I do and I imagine Catherine and Brass would appreciate it as well."

As they got to work in the kitchen, Jim excused himself for a bathroom break and Sara turned towards Catherine. "You said earlier that you had video of the attack on Grissom."

"That's right." Catherine eyed the younger woman warily; pretty sure she knew where this was heading.

"I want to see it Catherine; I need to understand what he went through out there."

"No!" She shook her head firmly. "Trust me Sara; I've just spent most of the night watching all four disks that Gil found, and if anything, I'm left with more questions than answers. How anyone could be so twisted that he'd do that to another person..." She shook her head in disbelief. "Not to mention how Grissom managed to survive when the other three didn't. It was a brutal, vicious torture, Sara, that's the only way I can describe it and, I assure you, you do not want to see any of it; Gil wouldn't want you to either."

Approaching from the kitchen, Warrick handed both women their coffees. "How about the brother-in-law, Cath? One of those disks was supposed to be of him, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was." She confirmed. "We pulled his driver's license and made a positive identification from that. I'm fairly sure he was Tate's first kill, or at least the first one he did by himself; there was none of the forward-planning that's evident in the other three recordings. From the look of things, Ashton was dead before Tate even got him to the dump site and there were no marks on the body to indicate he'd been tortured. In fact, we couldn't see any signs of trauma at all; it's only a guess but I'd probably be thinking strangulation for COD."

"Well, at least his wife will know for sure now." Sara commented as she sipped her coffee.

Catherine picked up her own cup. "Hopefully, we can help her out even further. Grissom wants us to try and find the body. I've left Archie going over that recording; he's going to pull out anything in the surrounding area that may be helpful for identification. With some luck, someone up in Fernley will recognize something and we'll have an area to start searching." She paused as Brass painfully made his way back to the couch. "He also wants to file a formal complaint against the sheriff's office up there. Apparently, they didn't take Clare Ashton seriously when she reported her husband missing; she told them that she believed her brother was responsible and they laughed it off."

"I can handle that for you, Cath." Jim told her as he tried to get himself comfortable again. "I'll have a word with _our_ sheriff; it'll carry more weight if the complaint comes from him. Just think; if they'd actually done their jobs properly four months ago, all of this wouldn't have happened. Tate would have been arrested; Lurie and the others would still be alive and Gil would have been spared a whole lot of pain." Moving his leg over slightly, he winced at the pain from his bruised hip. "And I sure as hell could have done without getting a car up the ass!"

Catherine and Sara both smiled at his remark but everyone was well aware of just how easily everything could have been avoided.

So?" Warrick drained the last of his coffee. "What happens now?"

Sara checked her watch. "Grissom should be calling back shortly; we can't really do anything until he does."

Jim nodded in agreement. "Sara's right. There's no point in making any decisions until we know what Gil's been up to and what he has planned. I'm sure Ecklie will have a stroke when he discovers what's going on but, from here on out, Grissom's running the show."

* * *

Coming downstairs after his shower, Gil made his way back to the kitchen to find Clare already had the laptop open and the tracking software running. She looked up as he neared and gave him a sheepish smile.

"I hope you don't mind; I couldn't wait any longer."

"Sorry I took so long." He pulled out the chair next to hers and took a seat. "I called Sara back while I was up there."

"Everything alright?"

"She's not too happy about the risks we took but," he gave a quick shrug "I managed to talk her round. I did have to promise to call her once every hour on the trip back to Vegas but I guess that's a small price to pay." He gestured towards the computer. "It's working?"

"The little red dot popped up on the screen the minute I opened the program." She shot Grissom a grin. "He was at the house for a while but he's been driving round town for the past ten minutes."

"He'll be looking for me." Gil commented. "That should keep him busy for a while."

"You didn't tell anyone where you were staying when you were in town yesterday, did you?"

He shook his head. "I went to the pharmacy, the bank and the gas station; that's it. If anyone had asked for an address I would have told them I was staying at one of the motels anyway. Don't worry, he won't find out where I am."

They kept the computer on as they ate breakfast and continued to watch as the red dot tracked up and down each street of downtown Fernley. One thing was certain, Tate was being thorough.

Gil had just gotten up to refill his cup when he heard Clare's relieved sigh.

"I think he's finally given up."

Returning to the table, Grissom bent down to get a clearer view of the screen. The red dot had left the downtown area and was now beginning to move south-east. Zooming in on that particular part of the displayed map, they both watched as the Subaru made a right-hand turn onto US-95.

Delighted that his plan was working, Gil grinned as he watched his target start to head south.

"I think it's time for me to leave."

TBC

**A/N:** Wow! Look at that; not even a hint of a cliffhanger. I thought we could all do with a little breather and, although it was difficult, I managed to control myself long enough to give you a nice, sedate ending to chapter 37. Thanks for reading.


	38. Chapter 38

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 38**

Following Tate south was easier than Grissom had anticipated. With the laptop set up on the passenger seat and the tracking software running, he was able to stay far enough behind the Subaru that there was no way Sean would suspect he was being tailed. Wanting to preserve the computer's battery, he turned it off after passing through Hawthorne and sped up enough that he could keep the car in sight. Hourly phone contact with Sara kept everyone in Vegas up-to-date on his progress.

Noticing signs for an upcoming gas station, he watched as the Forester indicated and then turned in off the highway. Knowing he would draw Tate's attention if he stopped as well, Gil drove by and pulled off the road a mile or so further on. With no turn-offs between them, he watched his rearview mirror and waited for Tate to reappear.

He'd just switched off the engine when his cell phone rang. Picking up the handset, he glanced at the screen and discovered it was the call he'd been expected ever since he'd left Fernley.

"Grissom."

"You left something on the bed." Clare informed him somewhat brusquely. "Where do you want me to send it?"

"I don't want you to send it anywhere; it's for you."

"I don't want it!"

"I don't care if you want it or not; you've got it. Call it a loan if you like but I don't want it back."

"How much is in this envelope?"

"Five thousand." Gil told her. "I thought that would probably be enough to get you through until the baby's born but if you need more I want you to tell me; like I said, it can be a loan."

"I can't take this from you." She insisted.

"You can and you will." Feeling the beginnings of headache, Grissom squinted against the bright sunlight that was streaming through the windscreen. "You've done a lot to help me over the past couple of days Clare, at least let me return the favor."

"I don't know when I'll be able to pay you back."

"Don't worry about that. I just want you to be able to keep your head above water, okay? The last thing you need just now is to be stressing over money. We'll work something out in a few weeks time." He hesitated briefly. "Look, I know it's none of my business but when you took the mortgage out for the farm the bank should have insisted on life insurance."

"They did; both Brian and I have policies but without proof of death, the company won't pay out. It's useless."

"We have proof, Clare." He heard her gasp. "I didn't tell you at the time but I found two other disks at Sean's place; one of them was marked BA. I sent them back to Vegas with the Lurie recording and Catherine identified Brian from his license photo."

There was silence on the line so Grissom pushed on.

"It's not going to make you feel any better but, from what Cath said, he died quickly and he wasn't tortured like the others. I've got someone working on the tape now; we're going to try to find him for you, Clare, but even if we don't that footage should be more than enough to have Brian declared legally dead."

He heard a muffled sob followed by the sound of the phone being put down. He waited patiently for her to come back on the line; a minute later, she did.

"Thank you." She said sincerely, her voice sounding somewhat raw.

"You okay?" Watching the Forester approach from behind him, Gil turned his face away from the road as the vehicle sped past. Opening up the laptop, he turned it back on.

"Yeah, I'm fine; it's just... I can't really describe how I'm feeling just now. I'm relieved in a way; at least now I can grieve for him properly; I never felt like I could before since no one believed me." She gave a quick, embarassed laugh. "Well, it's a day of revelations, isn't it? First Sean shows his true colors and now you tell me this."

"Ah… there are a couple of other things I should probably confess to while I'm at it."

"Such as?"

"Remember when I said I ordered something online during the night? I bought the baby a gift."

"You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to." "I know you haven't gotten around to thinking about a nursery yet but time's running out so I thought I'd start you off."

"What did you buy?" She asked warily.

"You'll find out when it gets there; the website said 48 to 72 hours for delivery so keep an eye out for it."

She sighed in resignation. "And the other thing you have to tell me?"

"I met your neighbor at the gas station yesterday; Kathy Miller."

"She and her husband own the place." She told him. "Their house is about a mile and a half further along the road from mine."

"She recognized the Lexus; apparently they'd noticed me driving in the other day. She wanted to know how you were doing."

Her voice hardened. "And you told her?"

"Don't worry; I said that you're doing fine." He took a quick breath. "Did you know that her son, Charlie loves horses and is looking for part-time work?"

"I told you before; I cannot afford to take anyone on."

"You don't have to." He admitted. "I already have."

"Grissom!"

"He'll stop by twice a day to help with feeding and whatever else you need done." Gil explained. "The kid's about to turn sixteen and trying to save for his first car. I've left $200 with his mother, that covers four weeks; just see how he goes, Clare, he really wants to do it."

She gave in, knowing there was no further point in arguing. "When does he start?"

"He'll be there first thing tomorrow morning." She could hear the triumphant smile in his voice. "He wanted to start today but I didn't want him wandering around the place when Sean turned up."

"I've got one condition; as soon as possible, we sit down and work out a proper repayment schedule for all this, including interest. I don't want charity."

"It's not charity, Clare; it's just one friend helping out another." Watching the tracking program, he realized that the Subaru was speeding up. "Look, I have to go; I don't want to get too far behind your brother, but I want you to keep in touch, okay; let me know how everything's going."

"I will and I am grateful, really; for everything you've done."

He waited until he heard her hang up and then, with a satisfied smile, Grissom pulled back onto the highway and quickly accelerated after his target.

* * *

Having spent the better part of the past day behind the wheel of his car, Sean Tate was tired and angry. Angry at himself, angry at Grissom but mainly, angry at Clare. She'd been playing him for months now and he'd never realized it. What surprised him the most was that she'd actually managed to pull it off; her treatment of him had never changed, she'd continued on just as she always had, and yet, it had all been an act.

With no sign of a green Ford sedan either in Fernley or on the trip south, Sean wondered briefly if that was another of his sister's lies. Whether it was or not, it wouldn't make any difference now; Grissom was doubtlessly back in Vegas and Sean still didn't know where the man was staying.

He didn't particular want to spend the night driving round the city looking for a car that may or may not exist but his only other option was tailing Sara until she led him back to Grissom. Glancing at his watch, he realized that her shift wouldn't have even started yet and the prospect of sitting in the Subaru all night waiting for her to finish work was not at all appealing. He needed another plan and, at the moment, he was just too exhausted to come up with one.

Reaching down, he rubbed his hand over his calf, feeling the sticky wetness that was still seeping through his jeans. He'd bought a tube of antiseptic cream at the gas station he'd stopped at but, with nothing to cover it, the dog bite had continued to bleed. Looking at his now red palm, Sean knew he was going to have to do something about it soon.

With the turnoff for Indian Springs and Vegas coming up he quickly made a decision; he'd leave the search for Grissom until the morning. He was still booked in at the motel and, after a good night's sleep; he'd be able to start fresh tomorrow. Smothering a yawn, Tate left US-95 and began following Highway 160 in to Pahrump.

* * *

Grissom drove as slowly as possible along the busy section of Highway 160 searching for the Subaru. According to the tracking software, the car was parked somewhere nearby and, spying a familiar sign, Gil was fairly sure that he'd just discovered where.

Pulling the SUV to a stop, he had a clear view of the driveway and parking area of the Desert Rock Motel and could just make out the black Forester parked outside one of the rooms towards the back of the complex. As he continued to watch, Tate limped out of the room to collect a small overnight bag from the backseat of the car before going back inside and closing the door.

As much as everyone had wanted this all wrapped up today, it was looking very much like Tate had other ideas and, truthfully, Grissom wasn't too disappointed. He knew that Vartann had an arrest team on standby waiting for his call but, after two nights with very little sleep and a day of almost non-stop driving, Grissom wasn't entirely sure he had enough energy left to coordinate the task. Feeling his headache kick up another notch, he fumbled for his cell phone. Flipping it open, he speed-dialed Sara's number.

"Hey." He said tiredly when she answered.

"Where are you? We all though you'd have been here ages ago."

"Looks like there's been a change of plan." He explained about the motel in Pahrump. "He's inside the room now and I think he's probably intending to stay the night. I can't be sure but this may be where he's been staying all this time. We're going to have to get someone over here to process the place when he leaves."

"You want me to call Vartann? One call to the Nye County authorities and Tate can be picked up right now."

He briefly considered it. "No, it's too risky here. It's a busy motel and there are a too many people about just now. I'd rather see him taken down in Clark County anyway." He yawned. "I'll find a place around here that I can park the car without him seeing it and keep an eye on things tonight."

"I could always phone in sick and then drive over and keep you company; Catherine wouldn't mind."

"No way!" Grissom was adamant. "I don't want you anywhere near this guy. He assaulted his sister for just mentioning Debbie Marlin, I don't particularly want to know what he'd do if he was suddenly confronted by her look-alike."

"Well, how about if I send one of the guys then?" She suggested. "You're tired, Gil; you need to sleep."

"I'll be fine. Tate's got to be at least as tired as I am; it's my guess that he won't leave the room until morning anyway. I'll grab something for dinner, sit back and take it easy; with some luck, I can get in a couple of hours sleep."

"Okay." Sara said reluctantly. "The plan still stands though; as soon as he hits Vegas, you call it in."

"Give Vartann a call and have him stand his guys down until the morning; I'll let him know as soon as Tate leaves the motel and then call him again when we get to Vegas." He smiled. "This time tomorrow it'll all be over, honey; Tate will be behind bars and we can start getting our lives back on track."

"God, I hope so. Just swear that you'll stay out of the way when Vartann and his men turn up; I don't think any of us needs anymore excitement just now."

"Don't worry." He assured her. "I'll keep my head down. From now on, the less I have to do with Sean Tate the better."

"Good. I'll let everyone know what's happening and we'll wait to hear from you in the morning. In the meantime, try and get some rest, okay?"

"I will; I see you in the morning, honey."

Hanging up, Grissom started the Lexus and went in search of something to eat. Deciding on Chinese, he ordered his meal and quickly headed back to the motel. He parked twenty yards further down the street with the back of the SUV to the motel. Checking the rearview mirror, he made sure that he had a clear view and then settled in for the night.

Four hours later, with no sign of movement from the motel room, Grissom knew he was going to have to get some sleep. The ache in his leg was bearable but the headache that had been taunting him all day was being made worse by the overhead street lights and he knew from past experience just how bad it would get if he ignored it any longer. Opening the glove compartment, he retrieved the vial of Vicodin and shook out two pills, swigging from a water bottle to wash them down.

Resting his head back against the car seat, he closed his eyes and hoped the meds would kick in soon.

He was sound asleep in seconds.

* * *

Having fallen asleep, fully dressed, within minutes of entering his motel room, Sean slept for a solid nine hours before being woken by hunger. He was no nearer to a plan but he was certain of two thing; today he would sort out Grissom and tomorrow he would make one last trip to Fernley. He couldn't let Clare get away with what she'd done and, God knows that dog deserved to be taken care of; he's take great pleasure in sorting out both of them.

Getting out of bed, he groaned as his leg took his weight. Sitting back down, he pulled up his pants leg, wincing as the material stuck to his skin. The bite was red and swollen but at least the bleeding seemed to have stopped. Stripping off the rest of his clothes, Sean quickly showered and redressed then, pulling a pillowcase from the bed, he tore it up and used it to cover his wound.

During the three weeks he'd been using the motel as a base; Sean had learned the area well and knew there was a 24 hour pharmacy just a few blocks away. So, after pulling the door closed behind him, he walked across the car park and down to the street.

He admired the white SUV as he passed and wondered briefly why the driver had elected to sleep in his car when he was just yards from a motel. Shrugging his shoulders, Sean kept walking, forgetting about the vehicle as he tried to work out the best way to locate Grissom. He still believed Sara was his best shot; if he could get something for his leg and then grab a quick breakfast, he could head off to Vegas and be outside the Crime Lab waiting for her when she got off work.

With a smile, Sean started walking faster; anxious to get started on what he hoped was going to be a very satisfying two days.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Sean made his way back to the motel. Hunger sated and carrying a paper bag full of first-aid supplies as well as the morning newspaper, he felt more than ready to get things underway. Once again, the Lexus caught his eye as he passed; there was something familiar about it but he couldn't put his finger on what that was.

Sean stopped suddenly as he remembered; he'd seen the same SUV yesterday on the drive down. Moving towards the rear of the vehicle, he checked the license plate and, although he couldn't be certain, he was sure it rang a bell.

He struggled to remember when he'd first noticed the vehicle but couldn't pinpoint a particular time or place, however, there wasn't that many LX570s on the road; it had to be the same one.

The rear and side windows were heavily tinted, just enough detail showed through that Sean knew from his posture, that the person inside was still asleep. Cautiously, he returned to the front of the vehicle and peeked in at the driver. He reeled back in shock when he saw who it was.

Sean's hand rose up to cover his mouth as he quickly scanned the surrounding area. The other vehicles parked along the road seemed to be empty and he could see nothing out of the ordinary but it _had_ to be a trap. There was no other explanation for it; somehow they had discovered where he was staying and were using Grissom as a lure. Turning round, he checked the motel's parking lot but everything looked normal there as well.

Confused, Tate walked back to the front of the SUV and stared at Grissom through the glass. There was no mistaking the relaxed posture and slackened features; the man was definitely asleep. With one last look around the street, Sean relaxed; after all, what self-respecting police officer was going to allow his bait to fall asleep on the job? There was no one else here; Grissom was on his own.

But, how the hell had he managed to find him? Clare was the only person who knew he was down here anyway and he'd made a point of telling her that he was staying in Vegas.

Anger surged through him as he put the pieces together; there was only one way Grissom could have found out where he was and, if the bastard had followed him all the way from Fernley, there was only one person who could have helped him.

Turning quickly from the SUV, Sean hurried back to the motel and let himself into his room. Tossing the newspaper and pharmacy bag on the bed, he turned on the room's electric kettle and paced back and forth as he waited for it to boil. Pouring hot water in a cup, he finally started to calm down as he sipped the coffee he had made.

If he'd needed proof that his sister had betrayed him, he now had it. It had to have been Grissom in the barn; that's who she'd been talking to through the door. Sean clenched his fists as he remembered the way his sister had distracted him _and_ how he'd fallen for it. She'd get hers soon enough but just now he had to deal with Grissom.

One thing didn't make sense though; how had he managed to follow him all that way without Sean realizing it. It was quite a distinctive vehicle and he felt sure that had it been close enough to tail him he would have noticed.

There was only one way Grissom could have done it.

Going back outside, Sean scanned the other rooms for movement and, seeing none, began his search. Ten minute later, confident that the inside of the Subaru was clear, he dropped down beside the vehicle and slid underneath. He had almost given up when he saw it; a tiny red light flicking on and off hidden amongst the suspension. Reaching up he pulled it free and quickly got out from under the car.

Going back into the room, Sean examined the transmitter. Placing it down on the open newspaper, he was wondering what to do about it when his eye caught a familiar photograph. Forgetting the tracking device for the moment, he picked up the paper and read the accompanying text. He smiled happily as he realized that the plan he had been struggling to come up with had just fallen into his lap.

Thirty minutes later, he was ready.

Grabbing his overnight bag, Tate let himself out of the motel room for what he intended to be the last time. Reaching into the Subaru's glove compartment, he pulled out his handgun and slipped it into the waistband of his jeans, tugging his shirt down to cover the weapon. Then, after throwing his bag in the back seat, he picked up the newspaper and envelope he'd carried out with him and casually walked out of the car park.

He couldn't hide his grin as he made his way back to the Lexus.

TBC

**A/N: **Finally, I get to post this! Last time this damn site went down just after I posted a chapter and this time it was just before; I'm starting to think it's me. Thanks for reading.


	39. Chapter 39

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 39**

Making his way through the hallways of the Crime Lab, Al Robbins wondered briefly at the amount of people milling about place; it was never usually this busy, especially at this time of the morning. The nearer he got to his destination, the thicker the crowd seemed to become but it wasn't until he was almost at the door to Grissom's office that he realized the group he was currently pushing his way through consisted almost entirely of the night shift lab techs.

Raising his hand, he gave a quick knock on the closed glass door before entering.

"I see I'm not the only one planning on hanging around to see this guy go down." He commented, as he joined the group of people arranged around the desk.

Catherine smiled a welcome. "I tried to get them to go home but they refused; I don't suppose Conrad will be too happy when he gets here but I don't think there's much he can do about it. Everyone just wants this whole thing to be over."

He looked at the other three occupants of the room. "Where's Greg?"

"He's still collecting prints at a gas station hold-up out in Henderson; from the sound of it, it'll be another or so before he's finished."

Robbins turned to address Sara. "So, have we heard from Gil yet?"

She shook her head as she nervously bit her lip. "Vartann's heard nothing and neither have I. He said he'd call before leaving Pahrump and again as soon as Tate made it to Vegas. I guess they haven't left yet."

"You should have let one of us go over there, Sara." Warrick stated. "It's not that far away; we could have been there in no time."

"I suggested that; I even offered to go myself but he didn't think it was necessary." Sara shrugged helplessly. "I wasn't happy about it but his mood's been pretty stable lately and I didn't want to do anything to jeopardize that; if I'd forced the issue and he'd shut down, where would we be then? Remember what happened last time he was pushed into something he didn't want? I do _not_ want him disappearing again; especially not now."

"He wouldn't have had to know we were there." Nick weighed in, siding firmly with Warrick. "We could have kept out of sight and just made sure that everything was alright."

"And if he found out, Nick? What then?" Sara waited for an answer but none came. "This trip has been good for him, personally and professionally, and I'm not going to undo any of that by second guessing him now." She stood up and addressed Robbins. "You want a coffee, Doc? Looks like were going to be here for a while yet."

"I'd love one, thank you." He waited for her to leave the room before looking at Catherine.

"What's your opinion on this, Catherine?"

She slowly shook her head. "I'm... not sure. Tate drove to Fernley and back with just an hour or so in-between; he must have been exhausted by the time he hit Pahrump. If Grissom's right and he's spent the entire night asleep in his motel room then I don't see there being any problem, but, if Gil's wrong... well, anything could happen." She checked her watch for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. "I just hope that call comes in soon."

* * *

The first tap on the window barely registered but the second, more forceful knock jerked Grissom back to wakefulness. Opening his eyes, he blinked against the sudden brightness as daylight flooded through the front window of the Lexus. Momentarily confused, he stared through the windscreen and wondered where on earth he was.

"Are you alright, sir?"

He turned his head quickly at the voice and winced at the pain in his neck. He lifted one hand to rub it as he noted the presence of the Highway Patrol officer standing beside the large SUV.

"Um... yeah, Officer; I'm fine." Reaching for the car key, he turned it so that he could power down the window. "I'm sorry; I guess I fell asleep."

"Have much to drink last night, sir?" The officer looked past Grissom, trying to see into the rest of the SUV.

"No, I wasn't drinking at all; just tired after a long drive, that's all."

The officer gestured back over his shoulder. "There's a motel right here, surely that would have been better than sleeping in your car."

At the mention of the motel, Grissom's eyes shot to the rearview mirror but all he could see were the flashing lights of the patrol car behind him.

"Um, yeah, I guess it would." Gil agreed, anxious to get rid of the cop. "Are we about done here? I really need to get going."

"Hang on a minute there, sir; we'll get you on your way as soon as possible. Can I see your license, registration and insurance, please?"

Gil sighed. "They're in the glove compartment." Reaching across he retrieved the documents and handed them over.

"Okay, give me a minute to check these and then we'll be done."

As the officer walked back to his car, Grissom tried to catch a glimpse of the motel's parking lot but his view was blocked. Frustrated, he knew he could do nothing but sit still and be patient. He looked up quickly when he saw movement in his side mirror.

Staring at Grissom's license, the officer stopped beside the driver's window again. "You're not the registered owner of this vehicle, sir?"

"No." Gil confirmed. "It belongs to a friend; Heather Kessler."

The officer nodded slowly. "You're the Grissom from the Vegas Crime Lab, aren't you?"

"Yes." Grissom replied curtly as he looked at his watch. A feeling of dread flooded through his as he saw it was almost 8am. "Officer, if we're finished here, could I have my things; I really do need to go."

"Sure, Mr. Grissom." The officer held out Gil's papers and waited for him to take them. "Everything's fine; I really just stopped to make sure you were alright."

Gil shot him a quick smile "I'm fine, really."

"I'll let you get on your way." The officer started to move off but turned back. "Oh, I almost forgot." Raising his hand to the roof of the Lexus he grabbed something before offering it to Grissom. "Someone put these under your windscreen wiper; I took them off before I woke you."

"Thanks." Gil replied as he took the newspaper and envelope from the man. Putting them down on the passenger seat, he watched in the rearview mirror as the red and blue flashing lights went out and the patrol car drove off. Quickly shifting his gaze to the motel's car park, he wasn't overly surprised to see that the Subaru was missing.

He fumbled to get the laptop open and drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as it booted up. Launching the tracking program, Grissom was dismayed when the page remained blank; there was no map and no red dot.

Swearing under his breath, he started the Lexus and gunned the engine. Shifting into reverse, he backed up past the motel's driveway then quickly shoved the transmission into drive and turned into the complex. Circling the parking lot, Gil searched for Tate's car but the Forester was definitely gone.

Driving back out to the street, he parked the SUV and shut the engine off again. Angry and frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to work out what had gone wrong. He'd only meant to nap for a few hours, instead he's fallen into a deep sleep and now the whole thing was screwed.

With his temper rising, Grissom felt the need to lash out but, remembering the pain of his last outburst inside a motor vehicle, he fought to maintain control. Relaxing his balled fists, he slowed his breathing and started to count. He got to eighteen before he remembered the two items the cop had handed him. There was only one person who could have left them on the windscreen.

Grabbing the envelope, his attention was immediately drawn to the handwritten note that ran across the front:

_Gil, I was going to give this back to you in person but you looked so peaceful I decided to let you rest. Sorry I couldn't wait for you to wake up; I have an appointment in Vegas that I didn't want to miss. Please, feel free to join me; I'm sure it won't take you too long to discover where I am, Sean._

Grissom tore the envelope open and upended it, watching as the remains of the tracking device tumbled out. He ran his finger through the mixture of plastic and metal as he tried to work out what to do; he had no idea where Tate was or even when he had left. Scooping the mess back into the envelope, he tossed it down on the floor of the SUV as he frowned at the newspaper that had accompanied it. Taunting him with the destroyed transmitter made sense but why on Earth would Sean leave him a newspaper? He quickly flicked through it, looking for anything that could be considered a clue as to Tate's whereabouts but saw nothing.

Fighting to remain calm, Grissom took a deep breath and started again, carefully examining each page as he methodically worked his way through the paper. He knew he'd found it the minute he saw the medium-sized block ad in the classified section.

Turning the key in the ignition, he threw the Lexus into gear and pulled out from the curb, ignoring the blaring horns of the cars he'd just cut off.

Desperate now to get back to Vegas, Grissom winced as he felt the SUV clip a Suburban as both vehicles attempted to take a left-hand turn at the same time. Putting his foot down, he powered past the other car and kept accelerating as he hit the relatively straight highway that would take him back home.

He considered calling Vartann but decided that could wait; he'd screwed up, and now he needed to fix it. As soon as he'd confirmed where it was that Tate had gone, he'd call it in and wait for the troops to arrive.

Pleased that he now had a definite plan of action, Grissom sped up even more, anxious to put an end to this once and for all.

* * *

"God, I hate waiting!"

Jim Brass shifted on the sofa trying to find a comfortable position. His elbow felt fine and he was confident that he'd be able to lose the splint in a day or so but the bruising on his hip now extended half way down his thigh and the pain and stiffness were definitely making life difficult.

"You want to take a drive over to the Lab?" Ray O'Riley looked up from the newspaper he was reading. "We could hang around there with everyone else."

Brass considered it for a moment before shaking his head.

"Nah, I've got a better idea. I think I'll go and work out some of my frustration on the contractor that's working on my place. Gil doesn't want to return to the townhouse when this is all over and I don't blame him but staying here, even at a reduced rate, isn't a long term solution."

He struggled to get up but eventually managed it.

"If I can get my house livable, the pair of them can come and stay with me until they find a new place. They took me in when I needed somewhere to stay, the least I can do is return the favor."

O'Riley frowned. "I thought they said it'd be six to eight weeks before it was done?"

"What they say and what actually happens when I'm on their backs are two different things." Jim stated. "Do you mind driving me out to the townhouse? All the insurance paperwork must still be there; I guess Sara didn't think to grab it when she packed up my clothes."

"I'll drive you anywhere you need to go." O'Riley told him. "That's one of the reasons I'm here."

Brass gave an amused chuckle. "Babysitter and cab driver, eh; still glad you took on this assignment, Ray?"

"I owe it to you. If I'd done the job properly at the start you wouldn't be hobbling around here like an old man." He shook his head dejectedly. "I screwed up, Jim; it should never have happened."

"For God's sakes, O'Riley." Having heard the same thing countless times over the past two days, Brass had finally had enough. "If it wasn't for you, I probably wouldn't be walking around at all; did you think of that? Any mistakes you made were more than cancelled out when you drew my attention to the Impala that was trying to wipe me off the face of the planet."

O'Riley hung his head, obviously not yet ready to forgive himself. Jim sighed and tried a different tack.

"Come on Ray, I've got a big enough pain in the ass as it is; I really don't need you adding to it, okay? What do you say we head over to Grissom's and then go and give my contractor a major headache; it'll probably do us both some good."

Ray shot his former colleague an amused look. "If you want the work done quickly I'm not too sure that pissing the guy off is such a good idea?"

"You watch; the minute he finds out that I intend riding him the whole time he's working on my house, he'll pull his finger out and get the job done quickly." Jim stated as he grabbed his room key and cell phone. Checking the handset, he held it up for O'Riley to see. "Oh, and don't let me leave without the charger for this, okay? Damn battery's flat again."

Shoving the phone in his pocket, he opened the door and limped out as O'Riley followed on behind.

* * *

Relieved, and a little surprised, that he had managed to make the trip home without another run-in with the Highway Patrol, Grissom turned onto Summerlin Parkway before fumbling for his phone and speed-dialing Sara's number. He knew by the speed with which she answered that she's been waiting for the call.

"Grissom?" He heard the sigh her sigh of relief. "It's about time, we've- "

He quickly cut her off. "Where are you?"

"In your office; we've all been waiting here for your call."

"Sara, I blew it; Tate left without me. I need you to stay right where you are until I find him again."

"What? How are you going to do that? He could be anywhere."

"No, he left me a clue; he wants me to know where he is." Gil told her. "I'm about fifteen minutes away from knowing if I got it right or not but, I needed to make sure that you're safe."

"I'm fine; you don't have to worry about me."

"Is Jim with you?"

"No." She told him. "He's over at The Platinum with O'Riley."

Grissom gave a weary sigh. "Alright, give him a call and make sure he knows to stay put. While you're at it, call Vartann and tell him I should have an address for him in quarter of an hour or so, okay."

"Gil, if Tate left you a clue that means he knows you're after him; it has to be a trap."

"Yeah, I know." He slammed on the brakes as he almost rear-ended the car in front of him. "Sara, traffic's picking up; I've got to go. Just stay there and wait for my call alright?"

"You'll be careful?"

"I'm just driving by, honey." He assured her. "The minute I know he's there I'll call it in. Don't worry, nothing's going to happen; I promise."

* * *

Closing her cell phone, Sara looked around the desk at the others.

"Well, the good news is he's back in Vegas; we should know something in about fifteen minutes."

"Problems?" Catherine asked.

"Tate got away from him." Sara gave a shrug. "Grissom's pretty sure he knows where he's gone though so he's going to swing by to make sure then phone Vartann. Which reminds me; I have to call PD and update him." She turned to Catherine. "While I'm doing that, could you give Jim a call and tell him to sit tight until this over; I don't imagine he feels much like going out anyway but it won't hurt to make sure."

Leaving the office, Sara headed for the break room to make her call while Catherine picked up her phone and dialed Jim's cell. She frowned as she put it back down again and began sifting through the paperwork on the desk.

"Not answering?" Nick asked.

"I don't think it's turned on; it's going straight to voicemail." Finding the number she was after, she dialed again. "I'll try the suite's phone." She let it ring for over a minute before giving up and looking at the three men sitting in front of her. "I don't suppose any of you have O'Riley's number?"

"I spent all that time with him the other day at the hospital but I never though to get it." Warrick replied. "Sorry, Cath."

"I thought we could all do with a refill." Sara said as she pushed open the door, coffee pot in one hand and cell phone in the other. "How's Jim?"

"I have no idea; his phone's turned off and he's not answering at the hotel. Do you know O'Riley's number?"

"Afraid not." She topped up everyone's cup as she gave it some thought. "You know, Jim's probably just trying to get some sleep; with all the bruising he's got, he can't get comfortable and I know he didn't sleep much yesterday. Maybe he just doesn't want to be disturbed."

"Makes sense." Nick said as he lifted his cup from the desk. "We could always call the front desk and have them send someone up there."

Catherine checked her watch then shook her head. "It's probably not worth the effort; if Grissom's right then this whole thing's going to be over shortly anyway."

Sara nodded her agreement. "He's got O'Riley with him and one thing's for sure; after what happened with that Impala, Ray's determined not to let Jim down again. As long as they stay in the suite, they'll both be fine; I really don't think we have anything to worry about as far as Jim is concerned."

* * *

"Mr. Sullivan?"

"Please, call me Sean." Holding out his hand in greeting, Tate smiled at the woman walking down the driveway towards him.

"I'm Marnie; it's nice to meet you." Gesturing around the other townhouses in the development, the realtor offered Sean a warm smile. "It's a lovely complex, isn't it?"

"Yes, I've had my eye on this place for quite a while now." He pointed towards Grissom's home. "It's this one, isn't it?"

"That's right; I was just inside opening some windows to get some air through the place. The owners are staying elsewhere at the moment so you can take your time and have a good look around."

Sean nodded as they reached the front door. "Well, actually, I think a friend might be dropping by to meet me here; I hope you don't mind? It's just that he's very familiar with this area and I'd like his opinion on a couple of things."

"Did you want to wait for him to arrive before we go in?" Knowing the vendors wanted a quick sale and desperate for the commission herself, Marnie was happy to accommodate a prospective buyer.

"Why don't we go ahead and get started." He held the door open and stood back to allow her to enter ahead of him. "He has the address; I'm sure he won't be much longer."

Sean Tate closed the door firmly behind him as he followed the unsuspecting realtor into the townhouse.

TBC


	40. Chapter 40

* * *

_**A/N:** I know, I know; I've blown my schedule again. I lost three days last week and feel like I've been scrambling to get back on track ever since. Still, as compensation, I've given you an extra long chapter; you can thank my over-developed guilty conscience for that._

_Actually, this is the cut-down version of chapter 40, I knew it was going long but it wasn't until I did a word count that I found out just how big it really was. What I've chopped off the end of this one now moves to the start of 41 so that means that a lot of the next chapter is already written. Who knows? I might just get those three days back after all._

* * *

****

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 40**

Jim Brass carefully eased himself out of the front seat of Ray O'Riley's Camry and slowly stood upright. The short journey across town had aggravated his hip and he was now beginning to wonder if this outing had been such a good idea after all.

The final mile or so of the drive had been spent with his teeth gritted and his eyes shut tight as he tried everything he could think of to take his mind off the pain. He never noticed the black Subaru parked under the shade of a large Mulberry tree ten yards further down the street.

"Are you going to be able to make it to the house?" Standing on the sidewalk, Ray eyed the slight incline that Brass was going to have to navigate. "I could always park a bit closer or you can tell me where everything is and I'll run in and get what you want while you wait in the car."

"No offense, O'Riley but the last thing I want at the moment is to get back into your car." Jim turned to glare at the Toyota. "Does that thing even _have _shock absorbers?"

Ray rolled his eyes as he watched Brass slowly make his way to the townhouse. "I knew I shouldn't have let you do this; it's too soon."

"God, will you stop sounding like my mother! I'll be fine as soon as we get inside; give me ten minutes and a couple of Tylenol and I'll be raring to go again." Approaching the front of Grissom's home he noted the white sedan parked in front of the garage. "The realtor's here; she must be showing someone around."

"You want to leave it a while? "Ray asked as they came to a stop at the entrance. "Wait till they're gone?"

Guessing that O'Riley's next suggestion would be that they return to the Camry for the duration, Jim quickly made up his mind. "Nah, we'll grab what we came for and go; I don't think we'll disturb anyone doing that."

Opening the front door, he entered first and headed towards the kitchen as O'Riley followed along behind. The ex-detective was unable to hide his curiosity as he took in his surroundings.

"I've never been here before." He said as he stopped beside one of the bookcases to scan the titles. "It's sort of... homier than I expected."

"Let me guess; you thought you'd be walking into a larger version of Grissom's office."

"Something like that; yeah." O'Riley admitted.

Jim gave a quick chuckle. "Actually, that's pretty much what it used to be like; very cold and sterile but Sara changed a lot of that when she moved in." He looked around at the room. "Some new furniture and toning down the bug theme worked wonders." He gestured at the sofa. "Take a seat, Ray, I won't be long."

He started towards the hallway but suddenly turned back as a thought struck him. "Have you heard any other sounds while we've been here?" He frowned as O'Riley shook his head. "I wonder where that realtor went to."

* * *

Sean Tate had been trying his best to ignore the over-enthusiastic prattle as Marnie insisted on showed him round the master bedroom. Both stopped suddenly when they heard the front door open and close followed by the distinct sound of two voices coming from the front of the townhouse.

Although he'd been expecting Grissom's arrival he hadn't counted on the man bringing anyone with him and the last thing he wanted were surprises. Moving quickly, he yanked his gun from the waistband of his jeans at the same time as he grabbed Marnie's arm and pulled her towards him.

Her gasp of shock was cut short as she caught sight of the stainless steel pistol rising up to take aim at her chest. Pulling her eyes away from the gun, she looked up into the cold smile of her 'client'.

"Make a noise and I'll use it." He promised as he tugged her towards the still-open bedroom door.

Pulling her closer, Sean turned her so that her back was against his chest then clamped his left hand over her mouth as he tried to listen to the voices drifting back through the house. Suddenly realizing that one of them was getting closer, he nudged the door with his foot, careful not to let it shut fully and leaned in towards his terrified captive's ear.

"Stay calm, do what I say and everything will be fine." He whispered, secretly thrilled by the tremors of fear he could feel running through her. "I've got a little job for you to do."

* * *

Closing the bedside drawer, Jim picked up the insurance paperwork he had come for as well as his phone charger. Going back out to the hallway, he pulled the door closed behind him and was startled when he realized someone was standing just a few feet away.

Raising his good hand to his chest, he gave a relieved laugh as he recognized the realtor.

"Wow, that's one way to make sure the old heart's still working properly." He said with a smile. "You gave me a fright standing there like that."

Expecting at least a smile in return, Jim was puzzled by the woman's demeanor. Standing just outside the open door to the main bedroom, she never said a word but her eyes darted from Jim's face to the dark room beside her and back again. Looking closer, Brass took in her pale complexion and the shaking of her hands. He smiled, confident that he knew what the problem was.

"Let me guess; one of Grissom's pets got out, didn't it? What are we talking about here; spider or cockroach?" Seeing her grow paler still, he bent and placed the paperwork and charger on the floor, and then held his hand out towards her. "Hey, how about you go and take a seat before you pass out. It's no big deal; if I can't catch it and put it back I'll spray the damn thing. Sara should have taken all the livestock into the office anyway."

Walking towards the open doorway, he stopped at the unmistakable sight of a gun barrel as it swung away from the petrified woman to take aim directly at his face.

"Don't say a word, just follow my instructions." Tate advised quietly as he reached over with his free hand to drag the realtor back towards the room. She whimpered slightly as he turned his wrist, placing the gun firmly against her temple. "I want you to come in here, close the door and stand with your back against it; if you make any noise or try to warn your friend, Marnie here pays the price, got it?"

Brass nodded as he watched Tate back up, the realtor now held in front of him. Moving slowly, Jim took a few steps into the master bedroom, closed the door and pressed his back against it.

"Are you armed?" Tate asked as he scanned Jim's clothing for any tell-tale bulges.

Brass shook his head as he conducted his own visual examination of the man standing in front of him. Having just had his plans thrown into disarray by the arrival of two unexpected visitors, Jim would have expected him to be on edge and unsure of what he was going to do; instead Tate looked calm and perfectly at ease with the situation.

"Where'd you leave Grissom?"

"Gil's not here." Jim answered cautiously. "It's Ray O'Riley; he's a retired cop."

"The guy from the hardware store?" Jim nodded in confirmation. "Is he carrying?"

"I'm not sure." Brass admitted. "Probably."

"Well, we're going to have to find out, Jim." Tate told him amiably. "We can't very well have him running around trying to play the hero now, can we? Someone could get hurt."

He yanked Marnie back against him and looped his left arm around her neck as he continued to press the gun to her head. He felt her shaking grow in intensity as he held her securely. He spoke just loud enough for her to hear him.

"You pass out and I promise you'll never wake up again, you got that?"

She managed a slight nod.

"Good girl; now, take a good look at Jim here because he may have just saved your life." Looking over at Brass himself, Sean smiled at the confused expression on the detective's face. "I was going to use Marnie as a means of control but, now that you're here, you can take her place."

Jim sighed. "So, Grissom's definitely on his way then." It was more of a statement than a question but Tate took it as the latter.

"Well, he was sound asleep when I last saw him but yeah, I imagine he's not too far away now. Two for the price of one; what more could I ask for?"

* * *

Having satisfied his curiosity with the bookcases, O'Riley had turned his attention to the framed butterfly specimens on the wall when he heard Brass call his name from the entrance to the hallway.

"What? You need me to carry something for... " The question trailed off as he turned and caught sight of the armed man standing just behind his friend, the scared realtor held tightly against him.

"Don't do anything stupid, Ray." Tate advised him as he pushed Brass ahead of him into the room. "Are you armed?"

O'Riley's eyes shifted quickly to Jim's as he wondered whether or not to be truthful; a single nod from Brass deciding for him. Opening the right side of his jacket wide, he revealed the .38 caliber handgun that sat holstered on his hip.

"That's your only weapon?" At Ray's nod, Sean continued. "Okay, take it out slowly and place it down on the kitchen counter; then I want you to move back and come and stand beside your buddy, got that?"

O'Riley nodded again as he moved towards the counter. Placing his firearm on the granite bench top, he kept his eyes on Tate as he joined Brass in the middle of the room; both watched as Tate, pulling Marnie with him, circled around the counter before retrieving the gun.

Sliding it into the back of his waistband, Sean quickly scanned the rest of the kitchen.

"Another job for you, Marnie." He announced as he loosened his grip on her. "I want you to look through the drawers and cupboards here and see if you can find something that can be use to tie someone up. Just remember what'll happen if you pick up anything else, okay?"

Letting her go, he was pleased to see her get straight to work. He'd managed to control her quickly and easily which didn't really surprise him; after all, the average person never really expected to find themselves in situations such as this one and the threat of a firearm was a powerful persuader. Feeling satisfied with himself, he relaxed against the counter as he kept an eye on the two men.

Brass stood next to O'Riley and watched as Tate casually leaned on the granite worktop. What he wouldn't give to wipe that smug look off the bastard's face. Having to stand back and do nothing rankled him but Jim knew without a shadow of a doubt what Tate would do if he stepped out of line.

In the brighter light of the kitchen, he'd managed to get a clearer look at Tate's weapon of choice and had recognized it at once; after all, the .357 SIG was the standard issue firearm for many police departments around the country, not to mention both the Secret Service and Federal Air Marshals. Its reputation as a "one-shot fight stopper" was well known and Jim had no desire to test whether the claim was true or not; particularly when he was sure the first target would be the woman currently rummaging through the contents of the kitchen drawers.

Waiting patiently for Marnie to finish her search, Sean noticed Jim watching him and returned the man's stare. The homicide detective's compliant behavior had surprised him; injured or not, he'd expected him to put up a fight of some kind. But what he saw as he looked in the man's eyes now was definitely not acquiescence; hatred burned there and Sean knew that, when he judged the time to be right, Brass would make a move. He'd just have to make sure the cop never got that chance.

Sensing that the search behind him had stopped, Tate turned to see Marnie holding a large roll of duct tape. With an almost patronizing grin, he took it from her then draped his arm loosely around her shoulders as he guided her back around the bench top.

Coming to a halt in front of the two men, he stared curiously at Jim's sling.

"How's the arm, Jim? What have they got you wearing under that; a brace of some kind, is it?"

"It's a splint." Brass told him. "It was a simple dislocation so I'll only have to wear this for a little while longer."

Sean nodded sagely as he looked at Jim's arm. "I think you should take it off now."

"No, wait a minute." O'Riley spoke up. "He can't do that; it's too soon."

"Not my problem." Tate voice hardened as he fixed Jim with a glare. "Get it off."

Slowly Jim slipped his arm from the sling and pulled it off over his head. He ripped apart the Velcro that held the plastic splint together and carefully removed it from his elbow. He cautiously cradled his forearm with his left hand as he awaited new instructions.

"Now, straighten your arm out and hold it down by your side." He watched as Brass obeyed, pleased by the beads of sweat he could see appearing on the other man's brow. Looking at O'Riley, he held out the roll of tape. "Tie his hands together behind his back."

"What the hell do you expect him to do; try and make a break for it? Tackle you?" Ray spat. "He's got a dislocated elbow and an injured hip; he's no threat!"

Tate raised the gun and took aim at Jim's head. "He's about to become even less of a threat if you don't do what I want."

"Just get it over with." Jim instructed as he turned his back to O'Riley. He tried not to react as his injured arm was slowly guided behind his back but couldn't help the gasp that escaped as his elbow was forced to rotate to accommodate the new position. Dropping his head forward onto his chest, he bit his lip to stop from crying out as the tape was wound securely around both wrists.

Tearing the tape away from the roll in his hand, O'Riley caught sight of the amused look on Tate's face and struggled against the desire to lash out at the man. It was only the knowledge that he had to follow Jim's lead that stopped him. Taking a deep breath in an effort to calm down, he held the roll of duct tape out towards the armed man. As it was taken from him, he turned to face Brass and placed his hands behind his own back waiting to be restrained.

Sean tried not to laugh as the retired detective stood passively waiting his turn. He was almost tempted to comply with his wishes but he had other plans for O'Riley.

"I'm not taping you up, Ray, I really don't intend having you around long enough to make the effort worthwhile." He said as he pulled a chair out from the dining table and sat down. "What I want you to do just now is go over and move those stools away from the counter then Jim and Marnie can have a seat on the floor where I can watch them."

"What are you going to do with me?" O'Riley asked warily as he moved the stools out of the way.

"Don't worry; nothing's going to happen to you." Sean promised as he pointed him towards Brass. "Give your friend a hand getting down there, will you?"

Knowing that if he grabbed Brass' good arm he would also be pulling on his injured one, O'Riley placed both of his hands on his friend's shoulders and guided him down until he was sitting with his back against the rear of the kitchen cabinetry. At Tate's directive, Marnie moved over and joined Jim on the floor.

Brass turned his head to look at the woman as she settled next to him, the glazed look in her eyes and her almost mechanical obedience to Tate's every whim spoke volumes to him; Marnie didn't expect to get out of this alive. Despite the earlier promise of release, she'd accepted her fate and given up.

Unsure of what to do next, O'Riley turned to look at Sean.

"Okay, I want you to go through this place and close every window that Marnie opened, pull the drapes closed in each room as well. Then I want you to check the back door and make sure it's locked securely. Don't worry about the front one; I'll handle that myself shortly." Getting up from his seat, Sean walked over towards the two people on the floor. "What I want you to remember while you're doing that is where this gun is pointed." Standing over Jim, he pointed the barrel straight down, centered on the top of his head. "If you're not back here in two minutes there's going to be a mess, got it?"

Ray nodded and took off, determined to carry out his captor's wishes. He had enough on his conscience as far as Brass was concerned; adding the man's death to it was something he intended to avoid at all costs. Moving quickly from room to room he checked each window and hurriedly inspected the back door. Satisfied that the townhouse was well secured, he returned with time to spare.

"It's airtight." He announced as he bent slightly trying to catch his breath. "What now?"

Squatting down, Tate eyes his two seated captives. "I'll just be gone a couple of seconds." He told them quietly. "Either of you moves a muscle and I'll know about it."

Standing upright again, he walked towards O'Riley and placed a hand on his shoulder as he guided him towards the front door. "There's one last thing I want you to do for me." He said as they neared the entrance. "I know you've still got your cell phone and your natural instinct is to call 911 the first chance you get but I want you to hold off on that; for a little while anyway."

Coming to a stop at the door, Ray stared in confusion as Sean opened the door and held it wide. He used the gun to point out to the street. "I want you to go and stand on the sidewalk out there, make sure it's somewhere that I can see you and don't talk to anyone. You're to wait out there until Grissom arrives, got that?"

He waited for a nod of comprehension before continuing.

"As soon as he does, you tell him I want him in here now. Marnie doesn't leave until he's through this door. Any funny business and both she and Brass are dead; you tell Grissom it's all up to him. The minute he's in here, you can make your call, okay?"

Without waiting for an answer, Tate pushed O'Riley over the threshold and closed the door behind him. It was only when he heard the locks engaging that Ray realized he'd been set free.

He shook his head in disbelief as he turned to look at out at the other townhouses and the street beyond. It was so calm, everything was so normal and yet he'd just been ejected from a nightmare. Moving unsteadily away from the door, he made it to the side of the white sedan before he had to stop; the pancakes and coffee he'd enjoyed so much for breakfast suddenly desperate to escape the confines of his stomach.

When the retching eased, he leaned against the hood of the car and waited for the shaking to subside. Finally feeling confident enough to move, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and started making his way to the street.

* * *

Turning the Lexus onto his street, the first thing that Grissom noticed was the black Subaru Forester parked by the curb just yards away from his home. Driving slowly towards it, he slammed on the brakes as a figure lurched into the street in front of him. Gil powered down his window as the man hurried around the front of the big SUV.

"O'Riley?" Gil quickly took in the pale complexion as well as the unmistakable aroma that lingered around the ex-detective. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Tate's inside; he's got Brass and the woman?"

Fear gripped Grissom as his mind flashed pictures of Sara in Tate's clutches but he quickly dismissed them; had it been her, O'Riley would have used her name. "What woman?"

"The realtor." Ray told him as he shot a quick glance at the townhouse. "I think that's how he got inside; he had her let him in. He was already here when we arrived; Jim and I walked straight into it."

"Shit!" Grissom exclaimed as he stared at the townhouse. He's bought it years ago but it he'd never really considered it a home until Sara moved in and then, thanks to Tate and his friends, it had turned into someplace that he'd have been quite happy never to set foot inside of again.

He frowned as he reviewed what O'Riley had told him; something didn't make sense. "If you were in there before, what are you doing out here now?"

"He let me go so I could give you a message." O'Riley told him. "He'll let the woman out next if you'll go in there; if you don't he'll kill them both."

"You called it in?" Gil asked.

"No, not yet; he said I wasn't to make any calls or talk to anyone before you turned up. I'm pretty sure he's watching me so I wasn't willing to take the chance."

Grissom thought for a moment. "Alright, I need you check the other townhouses for me; most of my neighbors should be at work by now but if anyone's still at home make sure they get out now. After you've done that, check that all the cars that are lying about are locked; I don't want him having access to a vehicle if he manages to get out of there."

"I'm not sure that he intends coming out at all." Ray stated. "He knows that the minute I call 911 we'll have every squad car in Vegas heading this was, particularly when they know there's fellow officers involved. Where does he think he's going to go? He's dead calm in there, he's worked it all out; I think his plan was to end it here with you. Jim falling into his lap is an added bonus."

Grissom quickly considered what he'd just been told. O'Riley might have a couple of years of retirement under his belt but he could still read people and Gil had a feeling he was probably right; take away his career, his home, the Beck brothers and now his sister and what did Tate have left. Still, they couldn't take O'Riley's hunch as gospel.

"We're still going to have to take precautions." He decided.

"Alright, I'll start knocking on doors." Ray took a step away from the SUV. "What are you going to do?"

Grissom looked at the Subaru up ahead. "First, I'm going to make sure his own car is out of commission and then I'm going to see if I can stall him for a bit."

"He said no funny business." O'Riley stated.

"I've got to try, Ray; you know that." He looked along the street. "Where's your car?"

O'Riley pointed out the Camry.

"Okay, after you've checked the other vehicles, park yours down at the end of the road to block the traffic then head the other way and stop anyone coming from that direction; it's a quiet street, it shouldn't be too difficult to do. As soon as you're out of sight of the townhouse, call it in."

As O'Riley hurried back into the complex to check the other units, Gil put the Lexus in gear and drove forward, slowing as he approached the Forester. Swinging the big SUV to the left, he shifted into reverse and lined up the black car in his rearview mirror. He inched backwards until the rear of the Lexus just touched the driver's door and then, with a silent apology to Heather, pressed down firmly on the accelerator.

The crumple of metal was louder than he'd expected. Turning slightly so that he could see out of the rear window, he guided the Lexus further backwards; the Subaru sliding sideways until its movement was stopped by the mulberry. With a final push, Gil watched the black car bend around the tree trunk.

Satisfied with his work, Grissom shifted into drive and, with another round of groaning metal, freed the Lexus from the wreck and swung it around and then up the concrete driveway, coming to a stop ten feet away from his own front door.

O'Riley had just checked the last townhouse when the Lexus roared up the drive. Ushering the two resident's he'd found there out to the street, he gave Grissom a thumbs up as he hurried past.

Still seated in the vehicle, Gil turned his attention to the building in front of him and was startled at what he saw there; an angry looking Sean Tate stood framed in the front window. With ten feet and two layers of glass between them, Grissom couldn't hear what Tate yelled at him but, thanks to his ability to lip-read, he knew nonetheless.

"What the fuck did you just do?"

Watching the irate man, Grissom realized that this was the first time he'd actually seen his nemesis properly; photos and video didn't count and on the night they'd last met, Sean had ensured he was always backlit by the campfire. Across the short distance, he could see a resemblance to Clare but, thankfully, it was only slight.

With the sun-block lining of the drapes behind him, Tate presented an almost perfect target and Gil briefly toyed with the idea of taking a shot but, without knowing the whereabouts of Brass and the woman, he knew it was a risk he couldn't take.

Holding his phone up for Tate to see, he dialed his own home number. Sean disappeared from the window just long enough to grab the handset before returning to stare at Grissom as he answered the call.

"Did you trash my car?"

"Yes." Gil answered simply.

"I want you in here _now_, Grissom."

"O'Riley said you'd promised to let the woman go if I came in." Gil said as he kept his eyes on the window.

"She doesn't leave this place until you're inside and I suggest you get moving quickly, I don't have a whole lot of patience at the moment."

"How's she holding up?"

"Are you trying to some buy time, Gil?" Tate asked suspiciously. "Waiting for the cavalry to arrive?"

Grissom ignored him. "I'm not making a move until I know how both she and Jim are."

"They're fine." Tate assured him. "For now anyway. Brass is nice and comfortable in the kitchen and Marnie's right here with me."

Grissom watched as Tate pulled the woman through the drapes to stand in front of him. Clearly frightened, she cowered as Tate's hand slid from her arm to her shoulder then across her throat. Wrapping his thumb and fingers around the delicate area, Sean squeezed lightly as he continued to stare out the window at the Lexus.

"How long will she last without air, Gil?" Tate asked, his tone conversational.

"Three minutes." Grissom answered automatically. He saw the fingers dig in and hold tight as Marnie tried unsuccessfully to twist away from the pain. "Stop it, Sean! You're hurting her."

"No, you are." Tate laughed. "I've already said that she goes free as soon as you come in here. Anything that happens to her while you're playing games out there is your fault, not mine."

Grissom sighed. He knew he couldn't afford to endanger an innocent civilian; any attempt that he made to stall further was going to be countered by Tate. He'd go in, he had no choice but first there was something he had to do.

"Okay, I'll come in but I need five minutes first; there's a phone call I need to make."

"I don't think I can give you that long, Gil; if Ray jumps the gun and calls 911 before you're in here, they're never going to let you get near the door. What good is that going to be to Marnie? I am, however, willing to offer you a compromise."

Pulling the realtor with him, Tate stepped back out of view but kept speaking into the phone.

"At the end of three minutes, I want you out of that vehicle." He instructed. "Leave the keys in the ignition and your phone and any weapons you're carrying on the hood then come to the door. And, just so that we both know exactly how long you've got, Marnie's going to time it for us."

The drapes shifted again as Marnie was thrust back through and pushed hard against the window; the only part of Tate that Grissom could see was the hand that held her in place against the glass.

"You can make your call but I suggest it's a short one." Tate advised him over the phone. "Like I said; you've got three minutes."

Grissom heard a click as Tate hung up the phone. He looked down at his cell as he speed-dialed Sara's number but looked up again as he waited for her to pick up. Staring across the ten feet at the woman pressed against the window, the only things he really saw were the tears that ran down her face and the two strips of duct tape that were now plastered across her mouth and nose.

TBC


	41. Chapter 41

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 41**

Quickly becoming bored in Grissom's office, Nick and Warrick had moved their vigil to the break room, citing more comfortable seating and easier access to the coffee pot. They were soon joined by Sara and Al Robbins, Catherine staying behind in a somewhat futile attempt to catch up on paperwork as they all waited impatiently for the now overdue telephone call.

Seated at the large table, Al tried reading the morning's newspaper while the guys flicked unseeingly through forensic journals and Sara sat silently glaring at her phone. They all jumped when it rang.

"About time!" Nick commented as Sara's relieved smile confirmed the identity of the caller.

"Is it over?" Sara asked anxiously as she answered the call.

"Not quite." Gil told her calmly. "Look Sara, Tate's got Jim and our real estate agent inside the townhouse."

"What?" She exclaimed. "How the hell did that happen? What was Jim doing there in the first place?"

Warrick and Nick both sat up straight as they listened to her side of the conversation.

"I'm not sure, Honey, you're going to have to ask O'Riley about that; Tate sent him out with a message for me."

Sara's heart skipped a beat at his words. "You better not be about to say what I think you are."

"I have to go in."

No, Grissom, you don't have to do anything. You know there are people who are trained to handle these types of situations; leave it to them."

"I don't have time to argue about this, Sara." He stared at the window in front of him. "There are some things you need to know before I go in there."

Her voice hardened. "The only thing I want to hear is that you're getting out of there now and waiting for help to arrive."

"Sara, my will -"

"I'm not listening to this!"

The three men watched in disbelief as she snapped her cell phone closed and pushed it angrily away across the table. Al Robbins caught it just before it went over the edge. He looked over at its irate owner.

"Sara-"

"Don't say a word." She ordered as she abruptly got to her feet. Reaching over, she took the phone back from him and turned it off. "If the damn idiot's determined to die then he's going to do it without my blessing!" Throwing the handset down again, she stormed from the room; the slamming of the locker room door tipping them off as to her destination.

Robbins looked at the two equally bewildered men seated with him. "What do we do now?"

Warrick jumped slightly as his own phone rang. Reaching into his pocket for it he addresses Nick at the same time. "Go tell Cath what's happening; we have to find out where all this is going down." Nick hurried from the room as Warrick flicked his cell open, he sighed in relief as he read the caller ID.

"Grissom?"

"Don't interrupt me, I'm running out of time so just listen." As he spoke, Grissom pulled the key out of the ignition, picked up his pocket-knife and opened up the blade. Jamming it into the now empty slot, he gave it a quick twist then pulled it out and did it twice more.

"My will is in a file in the bottom drawer of my office cabinet; my life insurance policy and everything else is in there too. It's pretty straightforward; there shouldn't be any problems with it." Dropping the knife, he reinserted the key and turned it. Gil allowed himself a small smile when the vehicle failed to start; with the engine immobilizer activated Tate's last viable escape option had just been disabled.

"Griss-"

"Please, Warrick; let me finish this." Grissom pleaded as he pulled the 9mm handgun from its holster and slid it into the thigh pocket of his cargo pants. The pants fit loosely thanks to his recent weight loss and Gil hoped that there would be enough excess fabric to disguise the weapon. "I need you take care of Sara for me, okay? She's angry and upset right now and she's probably not going to listen to anything you say but, when she calms down, she needs to know that I love her and that if there was any other way out of this I'd take it."

"Where are you, Griss? You got help on the way?"

"I'm at the townhouse." Grissom told him. "O'Riley's should have called it in by now but they'll never make it here in time; Tate's killing that woman in front of me and I can't just sit her and watch her die."

Opening the driver's door, Grissom hopped out and turned to pull his crutches free from the vehicle, the cell phone clamped between his shoulder and his ear. Slamming the door closed, he balanced himself against the car as he stripped the belt from his pants. Ignoring Tate's instructions to leave it on the hood, Gil placed it on the top of the SUV, hoping that the roof rack and the angle he'd positioned it would hide the fact that it was empty. That only left the cell phone.

"I want you to tell everyone else that... " He faltered, knowing exactly what he wanted to say but not knowing how to say it. He sighed in frustration. "Just tell them I'll do my best and Jim and I'll see you all soon, okay?"

Looking over at the window, Gil saw Marnie begin to sag as anoxia took hold; Tate's tight grip in her hair as he pressed her against the glass was now the only thing keeping her upright.

"There's no more time, Warrick, I've got to go; tell Sara I'm sorry."

Before Warrick could respond, Grissom hit the end button on the phone and turned it off. Placing it on the roof next to the holster, he grabbed his crutches and, with a glance at the now unconscious woman in the window, quickly made his way to the front door.

Three feet from the entrance, he heard the door open and found himself face to face with a grinning Sean Tate. In silence, Tate stepped back, opening the door wide for him to enter.

As the door was shut and locked behind him, Grissom could just make out the sound of sirens in the distance.

* * *

Catherine and Nick rushed back into the break room as Warrick hung up.

"What the hell is going on?" She demanded as she watched him close and pocket his phone.

"Tate's holding Brass and some woman at the townhouse. I'm not sure why, he didn't have time to tell me, but Griss is about to go inside too. Apparently, O'Riley's there as well; he's supposed to be calling it in."

Catherine looked around the room. "Where's Sara?"

"Grissom rang her first." Warrick explained. "She got mad and stormed off; last we heard she was taking it out on the locker room door." He checked his watch. "Look, I really think we should be heading over there."

"You're right." Catherine turned to Nick. "Call Greg, tell him what's happening and have him meet us at Grissom's. I'd better phone Conrad and let him know as well."

Al Robbins stood up from the table and grabbed his crutches. "I'll get my car and see you over there."

Nick already had his phone out. "While I'm talking to Greg, I'll bring one of the Denali's around the front and pick you up there. We might as well all go together." He left at a run.

"I'll handle Sara." Warrick said as he followed Catherine out of the break room. "There's a message I have to give her anyway."

* * *

Pulling open the locker room door, he found her seated on the bench in front of her open locker; her head down as she stared at the floor in front of her. Crouching down, Warrick placed both hands on her knees as he tried to catch her eye.

"I already told him; I don't want to hear it." Sara said stiffly, her voice thick with unshed tears.

"Well too bad cause you're about to." Getting up, Warrick swung round to sit on the bench beside her. "He doesn't have a lot of choice Sara; Tate's threatening to kill the woman in front of him. I know you don't want him to go in, none of us do, but do you really think he could live with himself if he did nothing to try and save her?"

When she remained silent, he pressed on.

"You should have given him the chance to say this himself but he wants you to know that he loves you." Warrick gave a quick chuckle. "Man, I never thought I'd hear Gil Grissom actually say that out loud."

He watched as a single tear escaped and ran down her cheek. Reaching out with a finger he wiped it away.

"Come on; we should get over there." Warrick stood and held out a hand towards her. "When they get out of there, he's going to want to see you."

"And if he doesn't get out, Warrick?" Sara asked quietly. "What then?"

He sighed deeply before answering. "Then I think it's even more important that we're there for him, don't you?"

"No, I can't do it." Sara shook her head. "If I go out there then I know he's going to die."

"And if you stay here he won't? I never thought of you as the type to stick your head in the sand, Sara." When she remained seated, Warrick headed for the door. "You know what? Forget it." He wrenched the door open and stood in the threshold. "The rest of us will go; Grissom doesn't need you. In fact, if this is how you're going to act, he's probably better off without you!"

Walking quickly down the hallway towards the exit, he noticed Nick and Catherine waiting in an idling SUV a few yards from the building. Yanking open the back door, he stood beside the vehicle and waited.

Nick looked from his friend to the door and back again. "She is coming, isn't she?"

Seconds later, Sara rushed out and ran towards them; slowing as she neared the open door, she shot Warrick a sheepish look.

"Thanks." She said quietly. "I guess I needed that."

"Anytime." He told her with a grin. "Now, get in; we've got to go."

* * *

"Straight through to the kitchen, Gil; I'm sure you know the way."

Ignoring the droll welcome to his own home, Grissom remained where he was and stared into the large open-plan room ahead of him "What about the woman?"

"Marnie? I pulled the tape off before I left to open the door for you." Tate informed him happily. "I assure you she's breathing just fine; she simply passed out, that's all." He prodded Grissom in the back with the gun. "Now, you go and join your friend and I'll bring her through to meet you."

As he took a few steps forward, Grissom was aware of Tate veering away from him towards the front window and could just see the unconscious form, lying in the recovery position, on the floor beside the sofa. Turning away, he could see Jim's outstretched legs up ahead and automatically headed towards him.

Brass watched his approach with an impudent grin.

"Hey, Gil; nice of you to drop in."

"Jim." Grissom acknowledged him and then frowned at the sight of the discarded sling and splint. "Do I need to ask how your elbow is?"

"It was coming along great until someone decided to tape my hands behind my back." Knowing that Tate would be listening to them, Brass leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice. "Did he tell you how Marnie is?"

"She passed out but he's says she's fine." Grissom whispered back. "We've got to get her out of here."

After a quick nod of agreement, Jim raised his voice back to its normal level and gestured with his head towards the dining table. "There's a chair out over there; why don't you take a seat."

"Stay right where you are, Gil." Tate called across to him. "There's something we have to do first and then we'll see about getting you comfortable."

They turned their heads as Sean approached, the now conscious Marnie held close to his side; the realtor looked pale but unhurt by her ordeal at the window.

Coming to a stop a few feet from both men, Tate used his free hand to lift the young woman's head so that she was looking at Grissom. "Say hello to Gil, Marnie." Her eyes flicked over to meet Grissom's before quickly sliding downwards. She said nothing.

"You're going to have to excuse her." Tate gave an apologetic shrug and then slung his arm around her shoulders. "I couldn't get her to shut up when she was trying to sell me this place but ever since Jim and Ray turned up she's refused to say a word."

"Are you alright, Miss?" Gil asked, hoping that a voice other than that of her tormentor's would get a response.

Tate gave a quick laugh. "There's no need to be so polite, Gil; after all, you two are about to get to know each other a whole lot better." He shoved Marnie forwards. "Frisk him!"

The sudden push caught her unaware and she tumbling awkwardly into Grissom who grabbed hold of her arm and struggled to keep them both upright. Quickly regaining her balance, Marnie slipped an arm around his waist to steady him and it was at that point that Gil realized she wouldn't have to obey Tate's order to frisk him to find the gun; pressed up against his left side, there was no way she could miss its presence.

"Nice save." Tate commented. "Now get on with it."

Taking a step backwards, Marnie kept her eyes downcast but raised her hands and placed them on Grissom's shoulders. Sweeping them down both arms and then across his chest and back, she quickly cleared his upper body and squatted down in front of him as she prepared to continue her search.

Knowing what was about to happen, he held his breath as he felt her hand nearing the pocket but was surprised when she veered away at the last second and carried on down the remainder of his leg. Finished with her task, she stood and waited passively for her next instruction.

Grissom quickly shot a look over her shoulder at Tate but could tell from the satisfied look on the man's face that he hadn't noticed the surreptitious move. Shifting his gaze back to the woman in front of him, Gil just caught the tail-end of a small smile as she too realized that they'd gotten away with it.

Stepping forward, Sean placed his hand on Marnie's shoulder and guided her backwards away from Grissom.

"Why don't you go and sit beside Jim again while I get Gil settled." He suggested as he guided her towards the counter. Watching her automatic movements and the impassive expression as she took her place next to Brass, Grissom began to wonder if he'd imagined the smile after all. His initial impression had been that she was in some sort of catatonic state but her actions during the body search belied that assumption. As Tate turned his back on her, Gil saw Marnie's eyes flick back to meet his and, this time, there was no mistaking the spark that he saw there.

Still watching Marnie, Grissom jumped slightly when Tate spoke from beside him.

"Sorry about that, Gil." Sean apologized as he carried a dining chair over and placed it beside Gil. "It's not that I don't trust you; I just can't take any chances." He gestured at the seat. "Sit."

As Grissom lowered himself onto the chair, Sean held out a hand for the crutches. Wordlessly, Gil handed them over and watched as they were carried across the room and tossed carelessly on the sofa. Returning, Tate stood in front of his latest captive as if stared as if seeing him for the first time.

"We haven't seen each other in daylight before, have we?" He asked with a slight frown.

"No, not really." Grissom replied as he returned Sean's stare.

"Of course, I did get a good look at you this morning over in Pahrump but people tend to look slightly different when they're asleep, don't they?" Slowly, Sean circled Gil's chair, coming to a stop behind him and casually leaning against the edge of the dining table. "Been following me for long?"

"A while." Grissom responded. He kept his eyes on Brass, knowing from Jim's eye line exactly where Tate was.

"You're not being terrible forthcoming here, Gil." Tate cocked his head as he stared at the back of Grissom's head. "I thought we could have a little chat before we really got down to business; you know how it works, I ask you questions and you answer them, preferably with more than just two or three words."

"I'll be happy to answer any questions you want, Sean." Grissom told him. "Just as soon as you let Marnie go."

"Yeah, come on Tate." Brass added his voice. "That was the deal remember; Grissom in and Marnie out. You've played with her enough."

Tate looked first from Grissom to Brass and, finally, to Marnie. With an insolent smile, he moved across to stand in front of her. Placing his hand gently on her head, Sean patted her hair almost as if she were a favorite pet. The realtor gave no sign that she was even aware of Tate's presence.

"What do you say, Marnie?" He bent to lift her chin so that he could see her face. "Do you want to go or would you rather stay here with us?"

"I'm not playing your game is she stays, Sean." Grissom said decisively.

Tate gave an exaggerated sigh as he stood up. "Up you get, Marnie; it looks like the decision's out of your hands." He stepped back to allow her enough room to get to her feet and then gestured with the handgun towards the entrance. "Go stand by the door for me, sweetheart; I'll be there in a second."

As she walked away, Tate began to follow but paused beside Grissom. "This is the only point on which you'll win, Gil. When I come back, I'll get the answers I'm after and then we'll put an end to this once and for all."

Turning away, he took one more step before stopping again. "Oh, before I forget."

Tate spun quickly and backhanded Grissom across the face, the edge of the handgun catching the side of his jaw and instantly splitting the skin. Slowly turning his head back to the front, Gil worked his jaw from side to side, wincing at the pain the movement caused.

"What the hell was that for?" Jim demanded as he watched blood run down his friend's neck to soak into his shirt collar.

"That was for what you did to my car." Tate explained with an icy smile as he pulled his hand back as if to strike again. He laughed as Gil flinched, then dropped his hand and continued on his way. Jim watched until he was out of sight then quickly turned back to look at Grissom.

"You alright?" He asked quietly.

Grissom nodded as he ran his tongue over his teeth, amazed that everything seemed to be intact.

"I wondered how long it would take for the act to slip." Brass commented as he kept an eye out for Sean's return. "I gotta tell you Gil, given the choice, I think I'd prefer a raving psychopath than Mr. Friendly through there; at least you know exactly what to expect with a psycho."

Grissom remembered the events in Fernley, Tate's sudden swing to violence at the mention of Debbie Marlin and his equally swift switch away from it when his sister surprised him with her long-held suspicions. The control he'd had then had quickly spiraled away and Gil wondered if they'd be able to try similar methods now.

"Maybe we can turn things around a little bit." He suggested as he listened to the quiet murmur of Tate's voice as he spoke to Marnie at the door.

"Hey, if you've got a plan I'm all for it." Jim said. "Just tell me what to do."

"Neither of us in a position to jump him but we may be able to out-muscle him a different way." Gil winced as the pain in his jaw intensified as he spoke. "He might have worked as a lawyer for both defense and prosecution but I doubt he's taken part in too many interrogations; he probably doesn't know how easily the tables can be turned. You know how it works; no direct answers and if he asks you a question answer with a question of your own. I think I know what subjects will put him off balance, we'll just have to work our way around to them."

"So, when do you pull the gun you've got hidden in that pocket?" Brass asked. He grinned at the surprised look on his friend's face. "I saw her sleight-of-hand when she was frisking you. You were an idiot trying to bring it in here undetected but now that it's here we might as well use it."

"Only as a last resort." Grissom stated. "I'd rather not use it if I don't-"

Both men fell silent as they heard the front door finally open and then close again. Seconds later, Tate returned alone.

"Happy now?" He asked as he headed towards the kitchen.

"If she's safe outside then yes, we are." Jim answered as Grissom pressed his hand against his jaw hoping to alleviate the ache as well as stem the flow of blood. Tate moved around the counter top and pulled open drawers until he located a dishtowel.

"Use that." He instructed as he threw it across to Gil. Opening the fridge, he helped himself to a bottle of water before coming back out of the kitchen and pulling up another chair not far from Grissom's. Opening the bottle he began to drink.

With the towel held against his jaw, Grissom studied the man sitting across from him. Smug and self-assured, Tate gave every appearance of a man completely at ease and in control of his surroundings. The fact that half the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department was probably parked in the street outside didn't seem to concern him at all.

As if reading his thoughts, Jim broke the silence. "You can't expect to get away with this, Tate."

"I don't expect to get away with anything, Jim." Sean said as he screwed the cap back onto the now-empty water bottle. "After all, my name's not Lurie, is it?"

Putting the bottle down on the ground next to his chair, he looked over at Grissom. "You said you'd answer my questions after I let Marnie out, right?"

"Within reason." With Marnie safe, Grissom allowed a touch of belligerence to enter his voice.

With a slow smile, Tate raised his gun and leveled it at Grissom's head. "Who's playing games now, Gil?"

"Okay, you win." Determined not to show fear, he lowered the blood stained towel and turned his head to look at Tate. "You ask your questions and I'll do my best to answer them, how's that?"

"Better." Sean commented as he smiled happily at both men. "Now, question number one: exactly how much were you paid to keep Vincent Lurie out of prison?"

TBC

**A/N: **Not exactly where I wanted to end this chapter but it's been almost impossible to get anything done this past week and I'm going to be flat out for the rest of this one so it was a matter of post now or hold off until the weekend at the earliest. The next chapter should (fingers crossed) be up early next week; I'm trying to work it back to weekend posting and there's a short chapter coming up soon that should make that possible.


	42. Chapter 42

_**A/N:** Okay people, I am officially cancelling April! I don't like it (or it doesn't like me; I'm not sure which it is), I've had enough of it and I'm just going to refuse to even acknowledge it's existence from here on out. Everything I've had planned has gone to hell and now I've misplaced the flashdrive that contains all my notes, research and 3/4 of chapter 43. As far as I'm concerned today is May 1st and I defy anybody to tell me differently. I don't want to drag this part of the story out and was hoping to get the next chapter up on Sunday but that is now dependent on finding that drive or being able to put a new version together from scratch; either way, I'll get it posted asap. _

_I've put the author's note here because I have a feeling that some of you may be a little too annoyed with me to read it if I put it at the end of the chapter. ;-)_

* * *

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 42**

Jim's laugh broke the silence of the townhouse. "Is that what you think? That Grissom was paid to save Lurie from jail? Don't tell me, let me guess; it was the good doctor himself that gave you that little gem. He was feeding you a line, you idiot!"

"Lurie told me nothing." Sean stated as he kept his eyes on Grissom.

Ignoring the gun that was still pointed at him, Gil returned Tate's stare. "You seem to be convinced that that's what happened, Sean; I think it's only fair that you tell us how you actually came to that conclusion."

"I've read the file and all the reports. You had your entire team there on the night yet you chose to process the house almost entirely by yourself. You spent an hour alone inside the house before allowing anyone to go inside _and_ you were there long after everyone else left. What happened during those times, Gil? Were you hiding evidence or destroying it?"

"Why would I do that?" Grissom asked as he stared at Tate incredulously. "What could I possible have to gain from seeing Lurie get off scot-free?"

"Money, Gil." Getting up from his chair, Tate moved round to stand in front of Grissom. "Now, answer my question; how much did he pay you?"

Grissom ignored him. "If you read those reports properly you'd know just how hard everyone, and I do mean everyone, on my team worked to try and solve that case. Catherine helped me process the house, Warrick worked the car and Sara took the perimeter. Everyone had a role to play and mine, as lead investigator, was to make sure that we covered all the bases when it came to that scene. That's why I was there so long, Sean; I wasn't destroying evidence, I was doing everything possible to find it."

"If you worked so hard and so conscientiously, why was nothing found?" Sean cocked his head. 'No crime is perfect; there's always something left behind' that's what they say, isn't it?"

"It wasn't a perfect crime." Grissom admitted. "If it had been Lurie's name wouldn't have even come up in the first place but it was close; closer than I thought I'd ever see."

"So what?" Tate shrugged. "You botched the investigation?"

Brass watched closely as Grissom rolled his eyes in frustration. Hoping to take some of the focus of Grissom, he addressed Sean.

"Hey Tate, I spent more time with Lurie than Gil did; who's to say that he wasn't greasing my palm?"

"For all I know he could have been paying both of you." Tate stated evenly. "But it would have been a lot harder for you to get access to the evidence in the first place. So, which is it, Gil? Did he pay you off or did you just make a hash of it?"

Grissom sighed. "You're only seeing what you want to see, Sean; nothing I say is going to convince you otherwise, is it?"

"That's not an answer." Stepping closer, Tate raised the gun once again.

Grissom stared down the barrel that was just inches from his face. "Do you really think you're the only one that's gone over and over that file, Sean? Every time a new forensic technique is developed, I check to see if it can be used in that damn case. I never gave up on getting Vincent Lurie, none of us did."

He shifted his eyes from the gun to the man holding it.

"You should be able to understand how I felt about that case; you've seen Sara, you know how alike she and Debbie were. What do you think it did to me to see someone that looked so much like her crumpled on the floor of a shower with her throat sliced open? That's the real reason I spent so much time at the house; not because someone was paying me to destroy evidence. Believe me Sean, everyone may have their price but Vincent Lurie could _never_ have afforded mine."

Grissom's tone was sincere and Jim held his breath when he saw Tate lowering the gun as he considered what he'd just been told. His hopes for a quick and easy resolution were dashed when Tate rose from his seat and walked to the side of Grissom's chair. Dropping his free hand onto Gil's shoulder, Sean leant forward as he spoke.

"I don't believe a word of it." Turning his head to look at Brass, his face broke into a cold smile. "I got the bastard to admit what he'd done so why the hell couldn't you two?"

* * *

The drive to the townhouse was conducted in silence as the four CSIs listened intently to the non-stop calls being broadcast over the police radio. They'd heard the confirmation of the SWAT team's deployment as well as requests for a hostage negotiator but it was the sight of three ambulances, lined up and waiting for service just inside the cordoned off street, that really drove home the reality of the situation.

Approaching the line of police barricades that blocked the northern entrance to the street, Nick hit the horn once to announce their arrival and then waited impatiently as a gap was made for the large SUV to pass through. Following the instructions of a nearby officer, he pulled the Denali off the road and parked it on the sidewalk a good sixty feet from the townhouse complex.

Climbing out of the back seat, Sara turned around to stare at the crowd of onlookers they'd driven through; some she recognized as evacuated neighbors but many, she knew, had turned up with the express hope of a cheap day's entertainment.

"Vultures." She commented bitterly as Warrick came to stand behind her. "The minute a strip of crime scene tape goes up they all start circling, praying for a feast."

He placed a hand on her shoulder as he too scanned their audience. "I've never quite worked out whether its curiosity, sympathy or the need for a vicarious thrill that makes people stand on that side of the tape and stare; who knows, maybe it's all three."

"It's blood, Warrick, that's what there after." Sara abruptly turned to stare at the townhouse up ahead. "If the cops told them everything was over and everyone was safe, they'd wander off back to what they were doing before and complain about all the time they'd wasted but if someone gets carried out of that place in a body bag, they'll consider it time well spent. They'll be entertaining their friends for weeks with every little detail of what went on."

Warrick remained silent; he could hardly contradict her when he knew that what she'd said was true. Seeing the crowd shift, he recognized Al Robbins Volvo making its way towards the barrier. After flashing his ID at the attending officer, he was permitted entry and pulled in directly behind the Denali.

"Any word?" Robbins asked anxiously as he slammed his car door.

"We only just got here." Warrick told him as he slipped his arm from Sara's shoulder to down around her waist, not entirely sure whether he was doing it as an act of comfort or restraint. Guessing that she probably needed time to prepare herself, both men stood patiently, willing to wait until she sure she was ready to face whatever was to come.

They all looked up as a helicopter flew low overhead, the familiar logo of one of the local television stations clearly visible. While Warrick and Robbins continued to follow its path, Sara's gaze fell to the line of patrol cars parked haphazardly across the road up ahead. A matching column had taken up position at the other side of the complex's property line, the space in between turned into an empty no-man's land.

A single ambulance stood slightly back from the other vehicles, its rear doors open and its lights slowly spinning. She watched as one of the EMTs stood to the side of the rig talking to a uniformed officer while his partner attended to someone in the back. Even from a distance Sara recognized the young realtor she had met with just days ago and felt thankful that at least Tate had kept his word on that score; at least Gil hadn't given himself up for nothing.

In the ten months that she'd lived here, she'd come to love both the townhouse and the area and, although she'd understood and supported Grissom's need to sell, she'd have been sad to see it go. But looking at the building that she'd happily considered her home, all she saw was bricks and mortar and tainted ones at that; Tate was in there, doing God knows what, and she realized that, regardless of what happened now, she never wanted to see the place again.

They'd find somewhere else, a new home, one they could build together but that could only happen if Grissom came out of there, safe and sound. And Jim too, of course; she couldn't allow herself to forget him.

That was the priority now; getting them both out.

Looking again at the mix of patrol and unmarked cars that ran across the street, each one sheltering officers that waited, ready and willing, to do whatever was necessary to get their comrades back, Sara felt herself calm. She had to remain positive, to do anything else at this point would be tempting fate and, although she wasn't the biggest believer in set destinies, at this point, she wasn't willing to take the chance.

As her gaze drifted once again, she saw Nick and Catherine split up as they neared the frontline; Nick wandering off to join Greg and O'Riley on the front lawn of a neighboring house and Catherine wending her way through the maze of vehicles in search of Detective Vartann.

Taking a deep breath, Sara mimicked Warrick's earlier move and slipped her own arm around his waist, giving a light squeeze as she did so. Looking down, he was surprised to see her smile as his eyes caught her.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready." She replied with conviction. "Let's go see about get them out of there."

* * *

Finally reaching Vartann's unmarked Ford, Catherine found the detective seated on the passenger seat, his cell phone held securely against his ear as he scribbled quickly in his notebook. Waiting patiently, she leant against the fender as she waited for him to finish his call. In less than a minute, she heard him swear as he jabbed his finger at the end button and watched as he shoved the offending instrument into his jacket pocket.

"Problem?"

Looking up he seemed surprised to see her standing there. "Damn negotiator's somewhere in the middle of Lake Mead, dispatch thinks it'll take a least an hour to get him here. It's not all bad news though; apparently the sheriff is on his way and Conrad Ecklie's hitched a ride with him."

"Well, with the two of them coming this whole thing should be wrapped up in a matter of minutes." Catherine commented sarcastically.

Vartann gave a quick laugh as he looked around the area, catching sight of Warrick, Sara and Al Robbins as they crossed the road to join their two colleagues and Ray O'Riley.

"I don't think Sara should be here, Catherine." Vartann stated as he watched Greg envelop the woman in question in a hug. "In fact, I'm not sure any of you should be."

"I'd like to see you evict us." Catherine voice hardened. "I promise you Tony, try and force us out and it won't only be what's happening in the townhouse that you have to worry about."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He sighed as he turned his attention back to the building. "But make sure that Sara doesn't do anything to make our jobs harder, will you. The last thing we need is a hysterical woman trying to break her way through that door."

Catherine frowned at him. "Can you really imagine Sara becoming hysterical?"

"No." Vartann admitted. "But then I never thought I'd see her and Grissom getting together in the first place and if this doesn't work out the way we want it to, who's to say what she might do. Just keep an eye on her, okay."

"Don't worry." She assured him. "Warrick's glued himself to her side; he'll keep her under control."

"You know; I can understand Jim wandering into that place and being taken by surprise but what was Grissom thinking off going in there like that?"

Catherine shrugged. "Apparently, Tate was torturing the woman to get him inside. I guess Gil didn't want to be responsible for anything happening to her."

"He should have known better." Vartann stated. "But, I suppose I prefer the odds of two trained officers getting out of there alive than one and a civilian."

"Tate let the woman out?"

"Yeah." He confirmed as they made their way towards the nearby ambulance. "Two of my men were up there checking out the SUV and the front of the building when she was pushed outside. They grabbed her as soon as Tate shut the door and rushed her down here. It doesn't look like he's harmed her in anyway but the paramedics are checking her out anyway."

"So, do we know what's going on inside?" She enquired hopefully as they came to a stop at the side of the vehicle.

Vartann shook his head. "Not from her, no; she hasn't said much of anything but the guys that were up there said they could hear three distinct voices coming from inside. They couldn't make out what was being said but there were no raised voices; everything seemed pretty calm."

"Well that something anyway." Catherine breathed a relieved sigh. "Who knows, maybe Jim and Gil can talk their way out of there."

She didn't miss Vartann's cynical look; he clearly didn't share her optimism.

He looked down at the notebook in his hand. "Grissom was driving the SUV that's up there, wasn't he?"

Catherine turned to look, seeing the Lexus clearly for the first time. "Yes, although it was in slightly better shape the last time we saw it."

"Apparently there's a cell phone and empty holster sitting on the roof but there's no sign of any weapon; you don't happen to know where that gun would be, do you?"

Before Catherine could reply, a voice spoke up from inside the ambulance. "I know where it is."

Making their way around the open doors at the rear, they found Marnie sitting on the gurney inside, a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Catherine gave her a friendly smile as Vartann spoke to the nearest paramedic.

"How is she?"

"Just shock; she'll be fine. We're going to transport her and get her checked out properly but I don't think there's anything to worry about."

"You know where Grissom's gun is?" Catherine asked the still scared woman.

"I had to frisk him when he came inside; it's in the thigh pocket of his cargo pants."

"And Tate doesn't know about it?" Vartann wrote quickly in his notebook.

She shook her head as she pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

"Before I got out he gave me a message to give to you though; said that it was important that I remember all of it." She began to shiver as she spoke. "He said to tell you that he knew he couldn't win but it was time to end it anyway. That Debbie was waiting and he was ready to go to her but there was one last thing he had to do. It would only take an hour or so and if you were prepared to be patient, you could have your people back. If you tried anything before then, he'd kill them both."

"That was all?" Vartann asked as the paramedic climbed back into the rig and began preparing it to leave.

"Yes." Marnie confirmed. "That was everything he said."

Vartann nodded as he continued to take notes. "I'm going to have an officer meet you at the hospital, Marnie; we'll get a full statement off you there but what you've told us so far has been very helpful; thank you." Both he and Catherine stepped back as the second EMT closed both doors and headed round to the driver's side. They watched as the vehicle made a quick U-turn and headed back up the street.

"What the hell does he have to do that's going to take an hour?" Vartann asked.

"I'm not sure I even want to guess." Catherine shook her head. "What worries me is the 'ready to go to Debbie' part; whatever's going to happen during that time, Tate expects to be dead at the end of it."

"Is that by his hand or ours?" Vartann asked rhetorically. He scanned his notes again before reading out one particular line. "If you're prepared to be patient you can have your people back."

Catherine turned to face him. "Do you believe him?"

He pocketed his notebook before answering.

"Not for a minute."

* * *

Brass gave an amused snort. "When you got to Lurie he was a broken man, Tate; he had nothing left. His career had disappeared, his colleagues had deserted him and no hospital was willing to have him on staff. Hell, he was probably glad you came along; if nothing else, you put him out of his misery."

"Lurie was a disappointment to you, wasn't he Sean?" Gil asked quietly. "You had so much planned for him that night but he just gave in; I've seen the tape; he was dead before you branded him, wasn't he?"

"Lurie was pathetic!" Tate spat.

"What about Richardson?" Brass asked, his tone serious now.

"The lawyer?" Tate gave a quick laugh. "He at least tried to fight back but he'd let himself go over the years and never really stood a chance when faced with Jason Beck. I got a bit more entertainment out of him but it wasn't particularly satisfying."

Sean wandered across to the nearest bookcase and examined the group of framed photos displayed there. Finding one of Sara, he picked it up and turned, holding it out for both men to see.

"She does look quite like Debbie, doesn't she?"

Without waiting for an answer, he threw it to the floor and ground his heel into it, shattering the glass as he did so. Moving along in front of the bookcase he did the same with each frame he came across then stripped the walls of the butterfly displays and adding them to the pile.

"Disturbing, isn't it Gil?" Tate stood beside his handiwork, a satisfied look on his face. "When someone takes your memories and destroys them without a second thought. It's a feeling of violation more than anything."

"As far as I'm concerned this whole place was violated the night your friends turned up." Gil gave an unconcerned shrug. "Do what you like to anything that's in here, Sean, none of it's important. Every photo that's up there is archived on disk so all I have to do is run off more copies and buy some new frames; everything's replaceable." Ignoring the mess on the floor, Grissom met Tate's stare. "Unlike your pictures, of course. How long did it take you to Photoshop yourself into Debbie's life, Sean?"

Brass laughed. "Yeah, Catherine showed me the one you sent to the lab; not the most convincing cut-and-paste I've ever seen but I suppose if you didn't look to closely it'd might pass for the real thing." He turned to address their captor. "What I don't understand is how you got your hands on the originals in the first place."

"Those photos were real!" Tate replied angrily.

"Some of them were." Grissom conceded. "The ones of Debbie alone were genuine, but the not the ones of the two of you together. Don't forget, we processed that house; we know the originals were of Debbie and Michael Clark."

"So, how did come to have copies of those pictures?" Brass pressed.

Turning back to the bookcase, Tate began pulling the books down and tossing them on top of the broken frames.

Grissom face broke into a grin as he watched the man studiously ignore the question. "It wasn't enough that you were following her around taking photos from a distance was it Sean? You also broke into her house. That's the only way you could have gotten hold of the pictures of her and Michael Clark."

"If we'd known of your existence back then, you would have been top of the suspect list." Brass said. "Stalking, breaking and entering; I wonder what else we could have got you on."

"I wasn't stalking her!" Book in hand, Sean turned from the mess and began to pace. "I was keeping an eye on her, making sure she was alright."

"If Lurie hadn't cleaned up so well after himself, I bet we would have found traces of you there, wouldn't we?" Grissom asked. "When was the last time you were in there? A few days before she died? A week?"

"I hope you thanked him while you had the chance." Jim commented sarcastically.

As if suddenly realizing that things were drifting off track, Tate threw down the book he held and leant casually against the wall as he glared at Grissom.

"I'm still waiting, Gil; greed or incompetence, which is it?

Grissom closed his eyes and slowly shook his head in exasperation.

"Why the hell is this so important to you, Tate?" Brass asked.

"Somebody was responsible for Debbie's death and somebody else was responsible for letting that person get away with it." Tate explained. "All I want is an admission that, one way or the other, Grissom allowed Lurie to get off. The sooner he gives me that, the sooner all of this will be over."

"You said questions, plural, but you're just asking the same one over and over." Brass gave a bored sigh. "Face it; he's not going to give you what you want so how about we move on now?"

"Not until I get an answer."

"What you really mean is not until you get the answer you want." Grissom said. "What happens if I give it to you, Sean? Are you going to absolve me of all blame and let the two of us go?"

Tate's continued stare was all the answer Grissom needed.

"You plan to kill us anyway so why the hell would I give you what you want? If I though for a moment that saying it would get even one of us out of here alive, I'd quite happily lie to you, but it wouldn't do any good, would it?" Sitting up straighter, Grissom stared him down. "I'm not giving you a damn thing, Sean; not now, not ever."

Not liking the way things were heading, Brass tried to breakup the atmosphere that was forming.

"Grissom can be pretty stubborn when he wants to be, Tate and since it looks like we're going to be here for a while, how about you tell us about this great love affair of yours."

Tearing his eyes away from Grissom, Tate's cold smile returned as he addressed Jim.

"We're not going to be here all that long, Jim." He checked his watch. "In fact, this should all be finished one hour from now."

Pushing off the wall, Tate headed towards Gil's chair and moved around behind it before coming to a stop. Reaching out with his left hand, he grabbed hold of the collar of Grissom's shirt and pulled back making sure that he was securely held against the chair.

"You were right, Gil; Vincent Lurie was a disappointment. When you consider what he did to Debbie and the fact that he's been walking around free for the past three years, a quick death was too good for him; he got off way too easily."

Placing the barrel of his gun just underneath Grissom's right shoulder blade, Sean kept both arms extended as he held the gun and Grissom in place. He examined the angle of the weapon and made a slight adjustment before deciding he was satisfied.

"I don't want a quick and easy death for you, Grissom; I want it to be slow and painful so that I can enjoy every minute of it."

Without a moment's hesitation he pulled the trigger.

TBC


	43. Chapter 43

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 43**

Brass watched in disbelief as Grissom arched in the chair, Tate's grip on his clothing the only thing keeping him in place, as the bullet tore through his body and exited just below the collar bone. As Sean relaxed his grip, Grissom's head lolled forward and Jim's heart skipped a beat as he stared at his friend's lifeless body.

"You killed him." Part statement part question, Brass struggled to take in what he had just seen. The SIG-Sauer pistol had been waved around so much that Jim had become somewhat inured to its presence and even as he'd watched Tate lining the weapon up against Grissom's back, he'd assumed it was just more posturing. But staring now at the rapidly growing blood stain on the front of Gil's torn polo shirt he realised how wrong he'd actually been.

"He's not dead, he just passed out." Tate said, almost conversationally. "Don't panic; I'll be bringing him round again in a couple of minutes."

Keeping a hand on Grissom's shoulder, Tate came around to inspect his handiwork from the front. Pulling the wet, tattered material away from the exit wound, he examined the jagged hole in his victim's chest.

"Perfect." He commented as he prodded around the area bringing forth a fresh gush of blood as well as a faint moan from Grissom.

"Perfect?" Brass couldn't believe what he's just heard. "What the fuck are you talking about? You could have killed him!"

"That is the ultimate plan, remember." Sean answered condescendingly. "Don't worry, I don't want him dead just yet; I know what I'm doing." Reaching over, he grabbed hold of the chair he'd been sitting on earlier and pulled it closer. "I was thinking of trying this with Lurie but, as we know, he didn't really have the fortitude for it. However, I get the feeling Gil here is made of sterner stuff."

Keeping Grissom upright on the chair, Tate looked over at Brass. "I need you over here to help me but if I let go of him he's going to fall forward. Can you get up by yourself?"

Desperate to get closer to his friend, Brass ignored the pain in his hip as he struggled to his knees. Finally managing it, he put his shoulder to the wall and pushed against it as he slowly inched his way upright. He quickly covered the eight or so feet to the chair and turned his back to Tate.

Sean gave a quick laugh. "I'm not taking that tape off; I said I wanted you over here not that I was setting you free."

"I can't do a whole hell of a lot trussed up like this, Tate." Jim turned back to face him. "How do you expect me to help you when I can't use my hands?"

"You won't need your hands, Jim." Roughly grabbing hold of Grissom's chin, Sean yanked his head up off his chest. "The only help you're going to give him is to keep him conscious. I want to make sure he's aware of what's happening to him."

As Tate continued talking, Brass cautiously sat and studied Grissom. He'd seen his fair share of exit wounds and, looking at his friend's chest, he felt sure that Tate was not using standard ammunition. An ordinary .357 round would have just punched a hole through from back to front but this bullet had created a much larger, serrated-edged wound as it left Grissom's body. Experience told him it was a hollow-point and he could only guess at the mess such a slug would have made internally.

"From the minute he comes to, you keep him awake. Talk to him as much as you want but if you touch him or help him in any other way, I'll put another bullet through him; understand?" At Jim's slow nod, Tate began tapping Grissom's cheek. "Come on Gil, time to wake up now."

He woke with a gasp, his eyes shooting open as the memory of what had occurred returned. As pain and panic set in, Grissom tried desperately to twist away from the restraining hands that held him in place. Seeing the look of amusement on Sean's face, Jim began trying to get Grissom's attention.

"Gil? Come on, buddy; everything will be fine just calm down and concentrate on my voice."

Slowing his struggles, Grissom locked eyes with Jim and tried to do as he'd said. The pain was intense, burning a path from his back straight through to his chest; any movement made it worse and Gil held his breath as he tried to ride out the agony.

"Breath, Gil." Brass urged. "I know it hurts but just try taking small breaths, okay?"

Tate tightened his grip on Grissom chin and tilted his head further up trying to ensure his airway remained unobstructed. Loosing eye contact with Jim, Gil started to panic again.

"Let him go, Tate; he can do it himself." Brass snapped as Grissom, once again, began struggling to get free.

Feeling the hold relax, Grissom shook the hand completely away and looked back at his friend. Opening his mouth, he took a single cautious breath.

"That's the way; do it again." Brass gave him an encouraging smile.

He couldn't breathe deeply, but short, panting breaths at least allowed him to get some air into his tortured body. There was a tight, squeezing sensation coming from his right side and he knew instinctively that the lung had collapsed. He focused on Jim and tried to slow his breathing as much as possible.

"Good man." Jim felt himself begin to relax a little as he watched Grissom settle down; his respiration might not be perfect but at least he seemed to have found a rhythm. "You okay now?"

Grissom gave a quick nod and closed his eyes as a fresh wave of pain washed over him. Jim quickly looked at Tate, still standing to one side and avidly watching Grissom's struggle.

"Get away from him, Tate." He snarled. "You've done more than enough damage already."

"That was the whole point of the exercise, Jim; remember?" Stepping away from the chair, Sean headed towards the kitchen. "I'm having a coffee." He announced as he rounded the counter. "Either of you want anything?"

"Go to hell." Jim said quietly, more to himself than his captor. Turning back to Grissom, he was surprised to see a slight smile on his face.

"How you doing, Gil?"

"Hurts... but I can... handle it." Grissom panted slowly. Opening his eyes again, he looked at Brass. "Thanks... for talking... me through it."

"Anytime, buddy." Hearing Tate moving about in the kitchen, Jim leaned closer so that he couldn't be overheard. "Now, we've just got to work out a way to get you out of here."

"Gun... take it... use it." Gil coughed slightly as he finished speaking and was almost overcome by a surge of pain and dizziness.

Brass looked on helplessly as Grissom dropped his head forward and fought to stay conscious. It wasn't until he looked up again that he noticed Jim was still tied up.

Seeing his realization, Brass smiled ruefully. "Sorry, Gil; we're going to have to think of something else."

His gaze dropped to the blood soaked shirt.

"The towel you had earlier is just by your left leg, pick it up and hold it against your chest, okay? You're still bleeding heavily, we've got to try and slow it down a bit."

Looking down, Grissom tried his best to ignore the red stain and, with a trembling hand, he reached down and picked up the discarded dishtowel. Balling it up, he held it to the exit wound, gasping in pain as he applied pressure.

The phone rang, shattering the near silence of the townhouse. Sitting back again, Brass looked over towards the kitchen where Tate was standing, silently watching them as he sipped from a steaming mug.

"That'll be the negotiator." He said. "You'd better answer it; they'll just keep trying until you do."

"They can wait." Tate answered dismissively, ignoring the still ringing telephone. "Hurt much, Gil?"

"What do… you think?" Grissom panted quickly, trying to stifle the renewed urge to cough. Sean grinned as he watched him.

"How long before you can't suppress it any longer, Gil? Before you start coughing up blood?" The ringing telephone fell silent as Tate placed his mug on the bench top and made his way back over to his captives. "Before your lung collapses completely and the pressure that's building inside your chest starts to compress your heart?"

"Fuck off, Tate." Getting to his feet, Jim moved quickly to place himself between the two men.

"Sit down!" Tate ordered as he lifted the gun and jammed it into Jim's stomach. "I told you I knew what I was doing when I shot Grissom but I don't know the first thing about abdominal wounds, Jim. So, unless you're in the mood for experimentation, I suggest you sit back down."

Brass stood his ground and, ignoring the pistol that dug into his midriff, stared defiantly at Sean.

"Jim... sit down ... please." Grissom pleaded as he watched the pair square off.

Giving Tate a final contemptuous glare, Jim slowly took his seat again. "I'm doing this for Grissom, not you." He spat. "And you can damn well back off; he's got enough to contend with without you taunting him."

As he settled himself back on the chair, Brass examined the man sitting opposite; Grissom's face was now covered by a layer of sweat and a blue tinge was developing around his lips. Angry and frustrated, Jim turned on Sean once more.

"Make you feel good, does it? Shooting someone and standing by as you watch them die? You're pathetic, you know that?"

"Pregnant... women and ... defenseless animals."

"What?" Sean's head spun round to look at Grissom. "What did you say?"

"That's what... Clare said, wasn't it?" Gil asked. "Just before... you tried to... choke her."

Tate smiled. "I knew you were in that barn; you were just lucky she distracted me when she did."

Grissom slowly shook his head. "You suspected someone... was there but you... didn't know for sure. Clare scared... you, didn't she? When she said... she knew you'd... killed Brian."

The phone rang again and Brass nodded in its direction.

"You better answer that, Tate." Brass advised, hoping for a chance to get him away from Gil. "If you don't, they might decide to break their way in and I'm sure you don't want that to happen just now. Speak to them and you might be able to put it off for a while."

As Tate stalked off towards the phone, Brass leant forward again. "How you holding up, buddy?"

Lifting his eyes to meet Jim's, Grissom managed a weak smile. "My chest is... killing me, it's... getting harder to... breathe and I know... there are... at least a couple... of ribs broken. Like he said... if I don't already ...have a pneumothorax... then I soon will have." He coughed lightly and Brass winced at the sight of blood on his friend's lips. "I can't hold out... much longer, Jim; ...we've got to do... something soon or I.... won't be able to do anything... at all."

"You're going to be fine, Gil; I promise you, there is no way we're going to let that bastard win. Besides, Sara would kill me if I let you die." He felt encouraged when Grissom looked up at him. "Anyway, you've got an important rite of passage coming up and I'm not letting you wriggle out of it?"

"What... rite of... passage?"

"You don't need to know that right now." Brass told him. "Just remember; six weeks or so from today, you and I have a date. Sara will probably get jealous but we'll deal with that then. Okay?"

"A date, huh?" Gil smiled and Jim was glad to see amusement cutting through the pain in his eyes. "That means... you pay... right?"

"Definitely; are we on?" Jim asked hopefully.

With a weary nod, Grissom agreed. "We're on."

Jim grinned but quickly grew serious again as he listened to the sound of Tate's voice coming from somewhere near the front window. Straightening up, he knew this might be their only chance to agree on a plan.

"Okay, we'll discuss the time and place another time but right now, we've got to work out the best way to get us both out of here alive."

TBC

**A/N:** Still haven't found that damn drive. I joked about the dog having eaten it but I'm seriously beginning to think that's what's happen to it.

Anyway, the original version of this chapter was longer and spent some time both inside and outside of the townhouse but I think I actually prefer this one; it seems to have a better flow. I would ask for opinions on that but, since I'm the only one that read the first one you'll just have to take my word for it. ;-)

Finally, I would like to point out that although, at the time of posting, it is Monday morning here it is still Sunday in lots of other places so, technically, I'm back on schedule. Now all I have to do is stay there!


	44. Chapter 44

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 44**

As Catherine and Vartann walked back to the detective's car, three things happened at once: the SWAT team's van pulled up at the other side of the complex, the sheriff's SUV entered the cordoned off area and approached from the northern end of the street and a muffled but distinct shot rang out from inside the townhouse.

Training kicked in as each and every police officer ducked for cover; Vartann grabbing hold of Catherine and pushing her down behind the nearest vehicle whilst covering her with his body. Hearing the screech of tires, he turned his head in time to see the sheriff throw his car in reverse and speed off backwards to a safer distance.

When there were no further shots, he rolled sideway and cautiously stood up. Keeping one eye on the front window of Grissom's home, he held out his hand and helped Catherine to her feet.

"Was that what I thought it was?" She asked, having to raise her voice to be heard over the sudden glut of radio traffic as the latest development was reported back to dispatch and new instructions were handed out to those on site.

Vartann's phone rang before he could answer but with a nod of his head he confirmed her suspicions.

As she waited for him to finish his call, Catherine turned to check on the team, still corralled on the front lawn of a neighbor's home. Nick and Warrick were in the process of speaking to Sara, no doubt trying to either calm her down or persuade her to stay put; from the determined look on her face though, Catherine didn't envy them their task. Al Robbins and Ray O'Riley were keeping a wary eye on the scene whilst Greg was seated on the ground in the shade of a large tree, his attention apparently split between the townhouse and helicopter that still circled overhead.

Seeing Conrad Ecklie heading towards him on foot, Vartann cut the call short and waited until he drew nearer the car.

"Where's the sheriff?" Vartann asked.

"He got caught up with a reporter." Ecklie told them. "Said to tell you that it'd probably be better if he stayed back there to handle the media."

"Of course." Catherine commented bitterly. "After all, we can't expect the man to pass up a PR opportunity like this now, can we?"

Ecklie ignored her. "That shot came from inside the building?"

"Yeah." Vartann confirmed. "At this point we're working on the assumption that it was directed at something or someone inside the house. There are no open windows or broken glass so it doesn't appear to have been a potshot at any of us."

"Have you had any contact with the guy?"

"Not as yet; according to dispatch the negotiator's still at least 45 minutes away. They've spoken to him and his advice was to try calling the house to see if we can get some sort of dialogue going."

"So, no negotiator, no sheriff; I guess all this is on your shoulders, huh? Catherine asked him.

"I guess it is." Vartann reluctantly confirmed as he flipped open up his phone and prepared to dial.

* * *

The first call went unanswered and after waiting a couple of minutes Vartann dialed again, fully expecting the same result as the first time. He quickly hit the speaker button when he heard the call being picked up.

"Grissom residence." Vartann wasn't sure what he'd expected Tate to sound like but the cocky, self-assured voice that answered was definitely not it.

"Sean Tate?"

"Who're you?"

"Sean, I'm Tony Vartann from the Las Vegas Police Department; I'm standing in the street outside the townhouse at the- "

"Yeah, yeah, you're the negotiator I take it."

"Actually I'm a homicide detective; I work with Jim Brass."

"So we don't even warrant a negotiator?" Tate laughed. "I'm sure Jim and Gil will love finding out exactly how much the department wants them back safe and sound."

"Come on, Sean, it's not like that." Vartann said. "You took us by surprise that's all. The negotiator's on his way as we speak so if you want to want to hold off until he gets here we could just a chat while we wait."

"And what do you suggest we chat about?"

"Sport, politics, you can take your pick." Vartann took a breath. "Or maybe you could tell me what the shot we heard a little while ago was all about."

"Yeah, I thought that was probably what prompted this call. Worried about your friends, Tony?"

"I think I have a reason to be, don't you?" Vartann studied the front window but if Tate was looking out as he spoke there was no obvious signs of it. "How are they, Sean?"

"Look, I know how this works; you strike up a rapport with me, we talk everything out, I give up and everybody goes home happy." Sean sighed in exasperation. "But, I promise you, we're not going to be here long enough to build any kind relationship, there's no chance that I'll surrender and I really doubt too many people are going to be happy when this is over; so how about we cut the crap."

"Okay Tate, we'll do it your way." Vartann's tone hardened. "I need evidence that Brass and Grissom are alive and no, I'm not just going to take your word for it."

"See, that's better." Sean said, clearly amused. "Now I know exactly what you want and I have no problem giving it to you. Watch the front window."

Vartann placed his now-silent cell phone on the hood of his car as he, Catherine and Ecklie all turned to stare at the townhouse window. As the seconds ticked by, Catherine found herself praying that this wasn't just a delaying tactic. She'd heard the sarcastic comments and responses to Vartann's questions and wondered how the detective had managed to keep his cool. Not exactly known for his sense of humor, he'd handled Tate remarkably well considering, by his own admission, it had been a long time since he'd had any negotiation training.

"He's playing us, isn't he?" Patience worn thin, Vartann turned and walked to the rear of the car, returning moments later with a pair of binoculars. Raising them to his eyes, he scanned the window before lowering them once more and turning a frustrated face towards Catherine. "I'm sorry, Cath; I really thought that we were getting somewhere then but it looks like the bastard's just stringing us along."

"Hey, you're doing your best; we can't ask for anymore than that." She checked her watch. "It's been fifteen minutes since we heard that shot; don't you think that if he'd killed one of them he'd have said something by now? I mean, you heard him; he's the type of guy who'd gloat about it. He'd like nothing better than to rub it in."

"Can I have those?" Ecklie asked, gesturing towards the binoculars.

"Knock yourself out." Vartann replied as he handed them over before answering Catherine. "He gave us a deadline remember; maybe he's going to leave any confessions like that till the last minute and then off himself before we can get through the door."

"Hold on." Ecklie, binoculars trained on the front window, called out to them. "The curtain's moving."

Turning quickly towards the townhouse, they were just in time to see the familiar figure of Jim Brass pushed through the drapes to stand alone in the middle of the window. From a distance he looked fine and Catherine let out a sigh of relief that Tate, at least, appeared to be keeping his word. She noticed Ecklie adjusting the binoculars as he took a closer look at the scene.

"I can see what looks like a gun barrel against the right side of his head; at a guess Tate is standing just behind the curtain." Conrad scanned down what he could see of the homicide detective's body before returning his examination to his chest. "He's got blood spatter all over his shirt as well as some on his face, there's no obvious sign of injury and, looking at the pattern, I'd have to say that the blood's not his."

Seconds later, he saw a hand reach through the material and pull Brass backwards away from the window. Lowering the binoculars, he turned to look at his companions. "Tate sounded fine and Brass looked fine so that only leaves one place that blood could have come from."

They both ignored him as they stared at the empty window, hoping to see that drape move again. Instead, Tate's voice came over the still-open phone line.

"There you go. Satisfied now?"

Vartann hurried to pick up the handset. "What about Grissom, Tate?" Still watching the window, he saw a slight shift in the left hand drape and knew Tate was watching him. "We know Brass is okay but you haven't shown us Grissom."

"I took his crutches off him when he first came in here and I'm not giving them back just to satisfy your curiosity."

"Then take the phone to him and let me speak to him." Hearing movement behind him, Vartann looked up as Mike Reid, the SWAT commander ran towards them.

"I think you've forgotten who's calling the shots here, Tony." Tate's voice became serious. "I've shown you Jim and, as you saw yourself, he's fine; I don't see any reason why I- "

"He was covered in blood, Tate and we know it wasn't his!" The detective's patience finally snapped. "Now, unless you want me up there breaking down that fucking door you'll tell me how Grissom is."

At the unmistakable sound of the call being disconnected, Vartann snapped his own phone shut and threw it back onto the vehicle's hood. Frustrated, he ran his hand through his hair as he looked up at the three people standing in front of him.

"I'm sorry; I shouldn't have lost it like that." He glanced over at the building. "But I swear to God; if that guy isn't dead by the end of this I'll quite happily finish him off myself just for the attitude."

Reid gave an amused chuckle before starting in on his report.

"I've got my guys checking the perimeter; if there's any way of seeing into that building they'll find it. In the meantime, I'm going to start moving the entry teams into place; one at the front, one at the back. The minute the decision's made we can be through those doors in seconds."

Reid glanced over his shoulder before turning to address Catherine. "Sidle's over there with the rest of your group, isn't she?"

"Yeah." Catherine replied as she too looked over. Nick, Greg, Al Robbins and Ray O'Riley were standing together under the shade of a large tree whilst Warrick and Sara were seated on the front steps of the house, safely out of the way but with a clear view of the proceedings.

"We need a floor plan of the place." Reid pulled a folded A4 sheet of paper from his pocket. "As detailed as possible; when we go in there it'll help to know what to expect."

"I'll have her draw one up." Catherine took the paper from him. "Anybody got any advice about what I should tell her?"

"She's probably worked it out for herself, Catherine." Ecklie commented. "Just tell her what we know, that's all you can do."

Catherine nodded and shot him a grateful smile; as she turned to leave, Vartann called her back.

"Send Robbins down when you get there; I'll try and get Tate on the line again and it may help having a doctor on hand if he decided to talk to us."

"Okay, I'll be as quick as I can." Turning quickly, Catherine hurried across the street.

* * *

Any optimism Sara may have still harbored had died a quarter of an hour ago at the sound of the muted gunshot and even Jim's short appearance and Warrick's calm assurances had failed to lift her mood. As far as she was concerned, there was only one reason why Grissom wasn't put on display and she felt sure that's what Catherine was here to tell her.

Unconsciously tightening her grip on Warrick's hand, Sara watched as Catherine ignored the driveway, cutting across the lawn instead, as she made her way over to the tree that Al Robbins and Ray O'Riley were now standing under. Beckoning Nick and Greg to join them, Catherine spoke quickly to the four men before turning to face the final two members of her team. It was the coroner's nod of understanding and the sight of him slowly making his way towards the sidewalk that finally convinced Sara that her greatest fear had been realized.

Knowing that Grissom would want her to be strong, she shook herself free of Warrick's grasp and stood up as she waited for Catherine's approach. Sara spoke before the older woman even got a chance.

"He's dead."

Catherine stopped in her tracks. She hadn't been sure what to expect when she got here; fear, worry, perhaps even tears but a blunt statement such as that had never been on her list of considerations. Looking from Sara to Warrick and back again, it took her a few seconds to formulate a reply.

"We... don't know." She said honestly. "Tony demanded to see both of them, as proof that they were alright, but Tate only put Jim up there and he won't answer any questions about Gil."

"He might be okay." Warrick moved to stand beside Sara. "Just because Tate didn't put him on display, it doesn't mean something's happened to him."

"Then what was that shot, Warrick?" Sara snapped curtly.

"Warning shot, misfire; it could have been anything." He suggested as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't go jumping to conclusions, girl."

Looking at Catherine's face, Sara knew that there was more news. "Tell me." She demanded.

"Ecklie was looking through the binoculars when Brass was at the window." She took a deep breath. "Jim's shirt had blood on it and Conrad believes it wasn't his... that it came from another source."

"That other source being Grissom." Pushing Warrick's hand away, Sara began to pace. "I knew it! I knew when he phoned me this morning that this was going to happen."

"Sara, we don't know for sure." Catherine pointed out again. "Tate said that he's taken his crutches off him; maybe that's true, maybe Tate's playing games with us."

"Then where did the blood come from?" Stopping suddenly at the steps, Sara sat down hard. Seeing how pale she was, Catherine squatted down beside her.

"Are you alright? Feeling faint?"

Sara shook her head. "I... just want this to be over." She swiped at her eyes and gestured across towards Vartann. "What are they planning on doing?"

"Tony's going to try and get Tate back on the phone, that's why Doc's heading down there; hopefully between the two of them they can find out something about Gil." Catherine decided not to mention the looming deadline. "And the SWAT team's got everything covered; they'll go in as soon as possible. They want something from you first though." Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the paper and a pen. "They need a floor plan of the townhouse; as much detail as you can manage."

Sara stared at the paper for a second before giving a weary nod and taking it from Catherine. Turning sideways on the step, she got to work. Gesturing for Warrick to follow her, Catherine walked over to the driveway.

"Get the other guys over here as soon as I've gone; I think the more people around Sara at the moment the better"

"Okay, you've told them what's going on?"

"They got the abridged version but, yeah." Looking past him, Catherine watched Sara as she hurriedly drew her map, glancing up every few seconds at the townhouse. ""I'm not sure that she should even stay here."

"She won't leave." Warrick stated. "Regardless of what happens or how long it takes, I think it's fair to say that Sara will stay right here until it's all over."

"It won't be long." Catherine confided. "Tate told the realtor that everything would be over in an hour." She glanced down at Vartann and saw him deep in conversation with Robbins. "When they're finally ready to go, things will move quickly, Warrick; I'm relying on you to keep her out of the way, okay?"

He nodded. "Don't worry, Cath, I'll sit on her if I have to."

"And don't let her clam up either." She told him. "Force her to talk if you have to but I don't want her sitting here internalizing everything; the last thing we need is Grissom coming out of there perfectly fine only to find his girlfriend's become catatonic."

Seeing Sara stand up, Catherine walked past Warrick to meet her. "Finished?"

Sara held out the completed floor plan. "I want to come down with you." She said firmly. "I need to be there when they go inside."

"They won't allow that, Sara." Catherine told her as she took the paper from her. "Vartann wasn't happy that you were here at all, there's no way I can get you any closer." Placing her hand on the younger woman's arm, she gave it a quick squeeze. "I promise you, as soon as we find out anything I'll let you know but, in the meantime, you need to stay strong for him, okay?"

At Sara's resigned nod, Catherine took a few steps backwards and watched as Warrick moved in to take charge once again. Confident that, at least Sara's wellbeing was in good hands, she turned and jogged swiftly back down to the street.

* * *

"I don't know how much luck we'll have." Vartann said as he flipped his phone open and dialed. "He hung up on me last time so he may not answer at all."

"Let me try." Al said as he leaned against the side of the car. "He might be more receptive if I speak to him."

Knowing he had nothing to lose, Vartann pressed the speaker button then handed the phone over. "Be my guest."

Robbins looked up as Catherine joined them, floor plan in hand. "Where's Reid?" She asked as she looked around.

"Checking on his men." Ecklie told her. "He'll be back in a minute."

"No good?" She gestured towards the phone.

"Nothing yet." Al commented as he stared at the handset. About to suggest they hang up and try again, he was surprised when, suddenly, the call was answered.

"Who's this?" Wary and cool, Al guessed from the tone that Tate was expecting Vartann to be on the line again.

"My name is Al Robbins, I'm a- "

"I know who you are; I recognize the name." Tate gave a quick laugh. "Bit premature bringing the coroner in, isn't it? As far as I know, no body's dead yet."

"I'm a doctor first and foremost, Sean and since I work with both and Grissom and Brass, I'm concerned for their welfare." He paused to see if Tate would respond but he remained silent. "I was hoping you'd let me speak to them."

"You know; I'm really not sure that I can do that." Tate said. "Gil's kind of busy at the moment and Jim's keeping an eye on him for me; I don't think it would be fair to interrupt them like that."

"Please." Al pleaded. "A couple of minutes, that's all; I just want to check that they're okay."

"Where's Vartann?"

"He's here beside me but-"

"I don't want him anywhere near that phone." Sean demanded. "If I allow you to speak to one of them, he is _not_ to say a word."

Catherine lowered her voice as she leaned in towards Vartann's ear. "Winning friends and influencing people again, Tony?"

Robbins looked over at Vartann, seeing him raise his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"I'll be the only one to speak, Sean; Detective Vartann won't say anything."

"He better not." Tate warned. "Okay; one minute, that's all and after this, no more phone calls. Hang on."

They heard the sound of footsteps as the phone was carried across the room followed by Tate's voice again, muffled but understandable.

"Tell them what they want to know."

As he waited for something to be said, Al listened with growing dread to the sounds in the background; sounds that he knew only too well.

"Hello?"

Al saw the three people in front of him break into relieved smiles at the sound of Jim Brass's voice.

"Jim, it's Al Robbins."

"Hey Al, nice of you to call.

"Well, I was going to ask how you were but with your sarcasm intact, I'm going to assume that you're fine." Robbins said, and then grew serious. "I guess that's Gil I can hear in the background."

Brass hesitated slightly. "Yeah, he's... having a hard time of it at the moment."

"It sounds it." Robbins commented. "What's his color like?"

"Very pale, blue around the mouth."

"He's conscious?"

"Yes, he has been since shortly after he was shot."

Al heard Catherine gasp as their suspicions were confirmed but ignored it to concentrate on the call.

"Do you know what the gun was, Jim. What caliber bullet he used?"

".357, I'm pretty sure we're talking hollow-point too. Back to front, point blank; it came out near the top of the chest." Brass told him. "I haven't been able to check the entry but the exit wound is a mess and we haven't been able to do much about the bleeding."

About to speak, Robbins was stopped when Tate's voice suddenly came back on the line. "That's enough; you found out what you wanted now leave us alone." The call ended as Tate hung up.

Slowly closing the cell phone, Al held it out for Vartann to take.

"I'm not sure if any of you heard it but the rasping sound in the background was Gil struggling to breath." He told them. "A gunshot wound to that part of the chest will have collapsed his lung."

"How much time does he have?" Catherine asked fearfully.

"He's in respiratory distress as it is." Robbins stated. "Add to that a rapidly approaching tension pneumothorax and probable hypovolemic shock and we could be talking minutes."

Hearing the sound of running feet behind them, Vartann turned as Reid came to a skidding stop by the car.

"One of my men is on the roof of one of the buildings in the next street." The SWAT commander told them. "It's up higher than the townhouse and the angle's awkward but from where he's standing, he's got a pretty good view down into the kitchen."

"Can he see Grissom or Brass?"

"Tate's got them sitting on chairs opposite each other." Reid said. "According to my guy, from what he can make out, Grissom's in a bad way."

"Yeah, we know; Tate let us speak to Jim." Vartann checked his watch. "We've got to get them out of there quickly."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem." Reid smiled. "Tate's prowling round the place like a caged tiger; he's been in and out of the kitchen twice just in the time we've been watching. I've given my guy the order; the next time he comes into view, we're going to take him down."

* * *

As Tate disappeared back towards the front of the townhouse, Brass watched Grissom; if it wasn't for the short pain-filled gasps and the hand holding tightly to the edge of the chair, Jim would have sworn his friend had given up the fight.

With his eyes closed and his face a whitish grey, Grissom looked more like one of the bodies they were both used to dealing with than the robust, driven criminalist that Jim had known for years. With dismay, he noticed that the right side of Gil's chest was no longer even rising as he struggled for breath.

"Gil?" Hoping that Tate wasn't about to reappear, Jim leaned forward on his chair. "Come on, buddy; open your eyes and look at me."

Reluctantly, Grissom obeyed and regarded him wearily.

"Tell me the truth." Brass said firmly. "Are you going to be able to manage this?"

Grissom tried to sit up straighter as he returned Jim's stare. "I... have to." Raising his shaking left hand, he wiped the sweat from his eyes. "We don't... exactly… have a... choice."

"We can sit here and wait." Brass suggested. "Everyone's outside; it won't be much longer before they make a move. We can still call this off, pal; you just have to say the word."

Deeply chilled, Grissom groaned as shivers racked his body. "It's... now or never... and you... know it."

Jim gave a deep sigh before nodding once. "Okay then." He whispered. "I guess it's time we put this bastard in his place.

TBC

**A/N:** Okay, slight hiccup with this one but better late than never, right?

I guess we all know what's coming in the next chapter and, while I'm not going to name a day (I've dropped myself in that particular hole too many times now), I will promise to get it up as soon as it's finished. Thanks.


	45. Chapter 45

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 45**

"He's watching us; I'm sure he is." Lowering the binoculars, Conrad Ecklie turned to look at Mike Reid. "Every so often the drape on the left moves slightly. Your guys are well trained; why can't they just take him out there."

"You know for sure that it's him?" The SWAT commander asked. "Or, that he's alone behind that curtain? Or, for that matter, that if we make that shot, the bullet isn't going to go straight through him and into one of your friends?"

"Well, no." Ecklie backed off slightly under the barrage of questions. "It just seems that it might be easier than trying to hit him on an angle from a rooftop fifty feet away."

"Look, I know you all want this to be over but I promise you, Johnson's one of the best we've got, if anyone can make that shot it's him." Reid assured them as he adjusted the earpiece of his radio. "There's no one on my team with more patience than him and he is not going to pull that trigger until he's sure he's got a clean shot."

"Your guy might be prepared to wait things out but I'm not too sure that Grissom can afford to." Vartann pointed out.

"Look, if we hit the doors now, I can guarantee you that Tate will start shooting before we're even half way in and it's anyone's guess as to who he'll be shooting at; it could be my men but it's probably more likely to be yours." Reid shrugged. "I think Johnson's their best bet but, if you want to speed things along we could try shooting some tear gas canisters in through the window."

"No; definitely not." Al swung round to face the two men. "We've got a man in there in respiratory distress; he'd never survive a cloud of gas."

"It's decided then." Checking the magazine of his own weapon, Reid slipped it back in its holster. "As soon as Steve gives us the word, we'll hit both doors; I'll be heading up the team at the front and the minute we've secured the scene we'll get the paramedics in there." He turned to Vartann. "You might want to get those ambulances down here and ready to go, just try and make sure they can't be seen from window; there's no point in letting him know that we're about to make a move."

"Okay, I'll sort that out." As Reid left at a run to join his team outside the townhouse, Vartann quickly organized for the surrounding patrol cars to clear a path to the driveway.

"I'd like to ride with the paramedics." Robbins said. "The sooner we can get a chest tube into Gil the better and, although it's been a while since I last inserted one, I used to be able to do it with my eyes closed."

"Okay Doc, I'm not going to argue with you." As Robbins headed off to meet the ambulances, Vartann turned to his radio and ordered the remaining ambulances closer. Satisfied that everything was being carried out, he looked at Catherine and Ecklie. "I think you two should get back as well; just to be on the safe side."

Glancing across the street at her team, Catherine knew where she was going to go; she'd promised Sara that she'd keep her in the loop and it couldn't be put off any longer.

"I've got to go and talk to the guys, bring them up to speed." She announced. "Sara's pretty much convinced herself that the worst is about to happen; I guess I better go and make sure she's ready for... whatever."

"You want some support?" Catherine almost did a double-take at Ecklie's unexpected offer. Tempting though it was, she knew the last thing anybody needed was Sara and Ecklie kicking off over something trivial and with nerves already frayed, it probably wouldn't take much to get one of them started.

"Um... thanks, Conrad but I don't think that'll be necessary." She glanced up the street towards the roadblock. "How about you handle the sheriff? With new information he can probably fit in another round of media interviews. You know what he's like; this is probably the best thing that's happened to him career-wise for a long time."

Ecklie gave a quick laugh before shooting the townhouse one last look. "They'll get them out, Catherine." He placed a hand on her arm. "Just you watch; everything will be fine."

"I hope to God you're right, Conrad." She sighed loudly as she turned to look at her team, gathered around the steps of the neighboring house. "Because I dread to think what's going to happen if you're not."

* * *

"Come on, Gil; one down, one to go." Brass urged, as intent on watching Grissom's efforts as he was at keeping track of Sean Tate. "You can do it, buddy, you've just got to concentrate."

Grissom closed his eyes as the room spun around him. Slipping his left hand quickly from his thigh to the seat of the chair, he gripped the edge and hung on tight.

"Gil?" Jim slid to the edge of his own seat as he watched his friend start to sway. "Ride it out; just wait for it to pass."

As Grissom struggled to fight off the dizziness, Jim made a decision.

"Tate!" He called as he kept his eyes on Grissom. "Get over here now."

Dropping the edge of the drape he's been peering around, Sean made his way towards his two captives.

"I don't think you quite understand the dynamics of this situation, Jim." Leaning casually against the wall, Sean watched the two men in front of him. "I'm supposed to give the orders and you're supposed to jump, not the other way around."

"I don't give a damn about that." Brass glanced sideways at him. "I need you to pull over another chair and put it beside Gil before he hits the floor."

"Does it really matter where he dies?" Tate checked his watch. "He's holding up proceedings here anyway; maybe he'll go quicker if he's lying down."

"Get the fucking chair or I'll get it myself!"

"Help yourself." Breaking into a laugh, Sean turned and headed back to the window.

"For God's sake!" Pushing himself up, Jim kept a close eye on his friend as he made his way quickly to the table. Pulling a chair out with his foot, he moved behind it and pushed it across the tiled floor with his hip until it was to Grissom's left. "There you go, Gil,

Opening his eyes, Grissom studied the chair as if seeing it for the first time. "Help me... turn it."

"Turn it?" Jim frowned first at the chair and then at Grissom. "Why?"

"Just... do it." Grissom panted. "I want... the back... towards the front."

Using his knees, Jim twisted the chair around as Gil grabbed and pulled it into position. "Like this?"

Gil nodded once. "Other side... same thing."

Puzzled, Jim did as instructed; pushing a second chair over and placing it to Grissom's right.

"I think they'd be better the other way round, Gil; at least then you could lie down if you needed to."

Grissom shook his head. "I... don't want... them for that; ...if I...lie down, I'll never... get up again." He looked at each chair. "This way... I can use them... for support." Tilting his head, he gestured towards the front of the house as he started working the button again. "Is he... still busy?"

Jim checked before sitting down again. "Yeah; I don't know what they've got going on out there but it's certainly caught his attention."

Concentrating on his blood-stained fingers, Grissom finally popped the stubborn second button free and slipped his hand into the now-opened pocket and withdrew the 9mm handgun. Slowly, he moved his numb right arm across his lap and flicked the safety off before slipping the weapon back where it had come from. Relieved that actually managed it; he looked up to see Jim grinning at him.

"Ready whenever you are"

"Give me... a minute." Grissom wheezed, his voice little more than a whisper. "It's weird; ...it doesn't hurt... as much as... it did before." He frowned slightly. "I don't know... if that's a.... good thing or not; ...probably endorphins... or adrenaline... kicking in.

"Stop talking, Gil." Jim advised as he watched him. "I want you to rest for a couple of minutes, okay? You're breathing too fast, buddy; I know it hard but I want you to try and slow it down a bit."

"We have to... get him...back here."

"I'll do that, you just relax." Jim leaned in and lowered his voice even further. "I'll keep him talking; you just jump in when you're ready, okay? We're only going to get one stab at this so we better make it a good one."

Seeing Grissom nod once, Brass sat back and raised his voice.

"Lots of activity out there, Tate?"

"Yeah, they're moving some of the cars back." Leaving the window, he sauntered across the room towards the kitchen, stopping as he leaned against the corner of the bench top. "You think they're going to try something?"

"Well, that _is_ what they're paid to do, remember. And, since you're refusing to talk to them they don't really have any other options; they've got to try and do something to get us out of here."

"They're not getting you out." Tate laughed. "No one's getting out of this; not me, not you and definitely not Gil."

Pushing off the counter, he strode across to stand behind Grissom's chair. Jim started to rise, instantly on alert as he remembered what had happened last time Sean was in that position. Tate looked over at the movement.

"Sit down, Jim; I won't do anything unless you force me to." He placed his hand on Grissom's left shoulder as he watched Brass retake his seat.

"Remember the question, Gil?" Sean said softly, leaning in so Grissom could hear. "Greed or incompetence; which is it?"

"Go to... hell." Grissom whispered as he tried, unsuccessfully, to shrug off Tate's hand.

"Still got some fight left in you I see." Tate smiled at the fear on Jim's face as he increased the pressure on Grissom's shoulder. "You're a stubborn man, Gil, I'll give you that." Lifting his hand, he stepped back and sat on the edge of the table. Jim watched anxiously as Tate idly aimed the gun at the back of Grissom's head.

"Tate." Sean looked up at Brass's warning tone.

"Don't worry, Jim; I'm just playing around."

"What's the plan here, Tate?" Jim asked, desperate to distract Sean from his latest game. "You're obviously content to wait for Gil to give up before you deal with me but what then? Shoot yourself?" Seeing that he now had his attention, Jim smiled as he shook his head. "No, that would actually take some courage, wouldn't it? I'd guess you're aiming to have some poor cop do the job for you."

Keeping his eyes on Brass, Sean dropped the gun to his side and leant against the dining table.

"First of all, you weren't part of any plan to start with, Jim; if you hadn't turned up here today, I would have been quite happy to let you off the hook. I know how the system works, remember; without evidence you couldn't do your job properly and finding that evidence was all down to Gil."

"Grissom and his team did everything they could to get Lurie."

"Sure they did." Tate commented sarcastically "Look, if you hadn't gatecrashed this little get-together, I would have called it quits as far as you were concerned but, you are here and, like I said, no one's getting out." He gestured towards Grissom. "He won't last much longer and as soon as he's dead it's your turn. As for me?" Sean shrugged his shoulders. "I haven't decided yet; the main thing is being with Debbie, how I get there isn't important."

"Let me get this straight. You seriously believe that Debbie Marlin has been hanging around just waiting for you to turn up so that the pair of you can carry on this great love affair of yours?" Jim couldn't help but laugh. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What?"

"Well, apart from the small matter of 5 dead bodies and 2 near-misses piling up in your wake, there's also Michael Clark to take into consideration. After all, from what we were told at the time, he was it for Debbie, so surely he's the one she's kicking her heels up with now. I don't really think she's going to be waiting for you, pal." Enjoying himself now, Jim grinned. "It could all be a moot point anyway, for all we know, the guys outside could be about to break in here and take you down before you can get a shot off anyway."

"They won't risk that with the two of you in here."

"Push them far enough and they might." Jim advised him. "Personally, I'd rather see you locked away for what you've done but I can settle for dead; after all, if you do come out of this alive, odds are you'd get the death penalty anyway."

"How is it fair that someone like Vincent Lurie, who murders simply because he can't have what he wants, gets away with it when someone like me, who actually has a valid reason for killing, will end up getting the death penalty?"

"But Lurie... did... have her." Turning his head, Grissom stared at Tate. "For... a while... anyway."

"What?" Sean turned to glare at Grissom.

"What did you... have, Sean? A five minute... fumble in your... parent's barn? Did you... ever wonder... why that happened? Why Debbie... came onto you... in the first place?"

"No, it was more than that!" Jim watched as Sean's hand tightened round the grip of his gun. "Much more."

"You're lying." Grissom turned to look at Jim. "Debbie told your sister... all about it; ...she was pissed... because Clare was spending... more time with Brian... than with her... so she used you... to try and get... back at her."

"Shut up."

"You meant nothing... to her then and... you meant nothing... to her after she... left Fernley. Debbie... moved onto bigger... and richer targets; ...the kind that could... really give her... what she wanted."

"No, she wasn't like that!" Both men watched as Tate began to pace back and forth between them.

"You've been... deluding yourself... for years, Sean. ...Everybody knew... what Debbie Marlin was; ...everyone could see it... except you."

"Shut up!" Coming to a stop between the two men, Tate stared over Jim's head towards the far wall as he tried to contain his growing anger.

"Tell me, Sean?" Grissom asked. "How did you... justify the fact... that she'd jump... anyone that waved... a piece of jewelry at her?"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Spinning round, Tate swung the gun up and jammed it against Grissom's temple. "One more word, I swear to God, you open your mouth just once more-"

Seeing his chance, Brass acted quickly. With his head down and shoulders braced, he launched himself off the chair and barreled into his unsuspecting captor.

Tate didn't stand a chance of blocking the blow as the homicide detective powered into him. Taken completely by surprise, Sean felt the gun fly out of his hand as Jim's momentum carried them both across the room and into the wall. As the two men slid down the wall to the floor, Brass continued to use his slight weight advantage to pin Tate to the ground.

As soon as Brass moved, Grissom followed suit.

Moving forward on his seat, he lifted his right hand and gripped the back of one chair as he pushed up off the other. Both arms shook as he carefully levered himself upright and he held tightly to the support as the room began to spin around him. He closed his eyes briefly and was relieved when the dizziness eased then, leaning forward against the chair back, he reached down and retrieved the 9mm.

He took a moment to rest, bracing himself against the chair as he kept his left leg clear of the floor. Panting rapidly, he could taste the sharp, metallic tang of blood in his mouth as he watched the two struggling men just a few feet away.

The weight of the gun seemed to drag his arm down and it took all his remaining energy just to lift the weapon up and point it in their direction.

"Sean." Grissom coughed as he spoke and groaned as further pain ripped through his chest.

When neither man heard him, he was forced to speak again.

"Tate!" Finally, Gil saw Brass glance backwards before giving up the fight and falling back on the floor a triumphant smile on his face.

Still unaware of the shift in power, Sean was momentarily surprised by his attacker's apparent surrender and it wasn't until he looked up that he realized why Brass had given in.

"Where the fuck did that come from?" Scrambling back away from Jim, Tate kept his back to the wall as eyed that gun in Grissom's hand.

"I brought it... in with me." Grissom told him. "I've had it... all the time."

"But I had Marnie- "

"Marnie wasn't quite the little lapdog that you thought she was." Jim informed him as he struggled to his knees. "You got him covered, Gil."

"Yeah." Grissom panted. "I'm okay... for now."

"Give me a hand up, Tate." Brass demanded. "Then you can get this damn tape of my hands."

"I'll need a knife to cut through it." Grabbing hold of Jim's shoulders, Tate watched Grissom closely as he helped Brass up.

"Yeah." Jim commented sarcastically as he turned his back to the man. "Like, I'm really stupid enough to let you loose with a knife. Unwind it; it'll be just as quick."

Feeling Tate begin to work the tape loose, Brass checked in with Grissom again. "Couple more seconds, Gil; then I'll take that gun off you and we can get some help in here for you, okay?"

As Grissom's weary nod weakly, Jim sighed in relief; it was almost over, just another few minutes and they'd be safe. The last thing he expected was the press of cold steel to his temple as Tate's arm came around him from behind.

"Forgot I took Ray's gun off him, didn't you, Jim?" Pulling Brass with him, Tate turned to face Grissom. "Drop the gun, Gil."

"I don't... think so." Raising his own weapon, Grissom leveled it at Tate's head.

"Drop it or I'll pull the trigger."

"You... do that... and I'll... pull mine." Grissom told him. "That means... you won't get... to watch... me die... which is what... you really want... isn't it, Sean?"

"Maybe I've changed my mind, maybe I'll settle for Jim after all." Tate grinned menacingly as he turned his gun shifted the gun from Jim's head and turned it towards Grissom. "Or, maybe I'll just shoot you now."

Leaning heavily against the chair in front of him, Grissom's arm lowered as he dropped his head. He coughed again and absently wiped at the trickle of blood that ran from the corner of his mouth as he looked back up into Jim's worried eyes.

"Gil?"

"I'm... sorry, Jim." Tearing his gaze from Brass, Grissom faced Tate. "You win... I give up... I can't... do this anymore."

"Time to die, Gil?" Sean asked triumphantly.

"Yes... I guess it is." Grissom told him calmly as his hand quickly came back up.

* * *

Kneeling on the roof of the two story apartment building behind the townhouse, Steve Johnson, a five year veteran of the SWAT team, had patiently tracked his target's movements through the kitchen window and waited for a clear shot. With a downward slope and slight angle to take into consideration, he knew he shouldn't risk taking him down while he was anywhere near the hostages but the events he'd just witnessed through his scope left him no choice. Lining up his sights, he aimed over Grissom's shoulder and just to the left of Brass and prayed that neither of them moved.

"I've got a shot." He stated aloud, knowing that the sensitive microphone of his radio would pick up every word he said. "Standby."

Checking his target again, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he prepared to squeeze the trigger.

* * *

"What's taking so long?" Sara asked as she stood on the sidewalk opposite her home. "You said it would be all over in a couple of minutes; why haven't they gone in yet?"

"They need to do this properly, Sara." Catherine turned from watching the townhouse to look at the younger woman. "They can't just go barging in there, you know that."

"He's been shot, he needs help but at the speed their going he'll be dead before they even get through the door." Sara's fear was quickly turning to anger with each passing minute.

"They know we need to get him out quickly." Nick pointed out patiently. "They're doing the best that they can, okay? As soon as they're ready; they'll move."

Seeing movement to her left, Catherine turned to see Greg running towards them.

"I was checking on Doc up in the first ambulance." He told them breathlessly. "They just got a call over the radio to start their engines and get ready to move; it looks like it's about to go down."

With his eyes on the team by the front door, Nick confirmed Greg's announcement. "Yep; they're getting the battering ram ready."

"About damn time." Warrick sighed in relief as he reached down to grab Sara's hand, he gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Any second now, Sara; one shot and it'll all be over."

Warrick's relief rapidly turned back to fear as that one shot was accompanied by two others.

TBC

**A/N:** What a lovely place to leave you all hanging, huh? ;-)


	46. Chapter 46

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 46**

The sudden silence that fell over the street following the three gunshots was unnerving and Warrick found himself gripping Sara's hand tighter as he concentrated on watching the townhouse across the road. He felt, rather than saw, Nick and Greg move closer and knew both colleagues were just as concerned about the woman by his side as he was.

Seeing a flash from his left, he turned and saw the light-bars of the three idling ambulances swirl to life then swung his head back just as rapidly as both doors of the townhouse were forced open with battering rams. He felt Sara tense slightly at the sound of the intrusion then relax completely as they both watched the entry team begin to stream in through the front door.

"Let me go, Warrick." Sara's voice was calm and controlled as she spoke

"No way." He adjusted his grip slightly to weave his fingers more securely through hers. "I let go and you're going to take off and, at the moment, the only thing you'll be doing up there is getting in the way. They'll let us know when it's safe but until then you're staying right here."

"Just let me go!" Sara twisted slightly as she tried to pull her hand free of Warrick's grip. "I have to go over there; I have to know what's happened."

Stepping in beside her, Nick put a restraining arm around her waist as both Catherine and Greg moved in front of her. Ray O'Riley stayed back for the moment, his attention split between the CSIs and the activity going on across the street.

"Warrick's right, Sara." Catherine kept her own fears under control as she spoke. "You can't do anything so there's no point in going anywhere near the place until everything's under control."

Twisting around, she noticed Vartann speaking into his radio as the three ambulances began to move towards the complex, each one taking the sharp turn into the driveway and coming to a stop as close to the besieged townhouse as possible. Looking back, she ignored the angry glare she was getting from from the younger woman, and placed a gentle hand on Sara's shoulder as she offered her a compromise.

"How about if I go over and have a word with Vartann? He's probably as worried as we are about what's going on up there; maybe I can get him to let me go in." Seeing the hopeful look in Sara's eyes, Catherine added a proviso. "You have to stay here though; I'll get you up there as soon as I can but until then you stick with the guys, okay?"

All three men sighed in relief as Sara gave a curt nod of agreement. Cautiously relaxing his grip on her hand, Warrick looked across at Catherine and gave her a wink.

"We'll be fine here Cath; you go on and see what's happening."

After a final, sympathetic squeeze of Sara's shoulder, Catherine turned and hurried across the road.

* * *

Seated, nervously, in the jump-seat of the waiting ambulance, Al Robbins had silently questioned the judgment behind his somewhat rash decision to accompany the emergency personnel into the cleared hostage scene. He didn't want to think about how long it had been since his last ride-along, a required part of his long ago hospital residency, and he had no doubt that procedures and protocol had changed considerably since those days.

He'd expected some resistance from the paramedics he'd joined up with but the two men had seemed completely at ease with his presence and Al had quickly come to realize that the laconic Rowe and somewhat more outgoing Mendez were both more than capable of handling whatever it was they were walking into.

Now, as he stood beside the broken door of Grissom's townhouse, Robbins drew in a deep breath to prepare himself before crossing the threshold and discovering his friends' fate.

He'd just entered the living room and was staring at the pile of books and broken frames in the middle of the floor when Mike Reid approached at a run from the other end of the room.

"They're back there, Doc." He said as he passed by. "Head for the kitchen you can't miss 'em."

As he approached the rear of the room, he saw the kitchen up ahead and followed the sound of voices until he reached the others then briefly stood in the entrance of the kitchen as he took in the scene before him.

Lying face up, eyes open and staring sightlessly at the ceiling above him, Sean Tate was clearly dead. Two medics worked halfheartedly on him as Al watched, knowing that the law stated that treatment had to be commenced until the patient was officially declared deceased. Under other circumstances, Robbins would have been more than happy to carry out that duty but, at the moment, he had other things on his mind.

A groan drew his attention away from Tate just in time to see Jim Brass pushing himself up into a seated position, obviously against the wishes of the two paramedics crouched at his side. Blood ran freely down one side of Jim's face from a gash just below his hairline and his previously injured right arm hung in a way that suggested that the elbow was, once again, out of joint.

Ignoring the medics that were trying to treat him, Brass wiped the blood from his eye with a backhanded swipe as he focused intently on the small group of people that were gathered around the still body that lay in the center of the room.

"Hey Doc?" Rowe's voice rose above the other noise in the room. "If you were serious about giving us a hand, I could really use you over here just now."

Turning from Brass, Robbins' quickly moved to join the group and looked down for the first time at his fallen friend.

Surrounded by a small group of SWAT officers, Grissom lay almost exactly in the middle of the room; IV lines ran into both arms and a sodium chloride solution was run wide open in an attempt to replace some of the blood that now coated the floor around him. A young police officer held an oxygen mask to Gil's face while his partner pressed a large gauze pad over the left side of his abdomen. Mendez was in the process of applying dressings to the chest wound while Rowe ran through Grissom's vital signs, the frown on his face deepening as he quickly scribbled his findings down on the back of his own hand.

Al eased himself down beside the unconscious man and leant in for a cursory examination of his own.

"How's he doing?"

"Not good." Rowe replied as he slipped his stethoscope from his ears. "Blood pressure's 76 over 58, heart rate 128, respiration's 38 and shallow, he's cyanotic, and there's definite subcutaneous air in the chest. He's completely unresponsive and I don't know if you've noticed it or not but we found that as soon as we turned him over."

Following the paramedic's pointing finger, Robbins watched as Mendez leant over and quickly lifted up the blood-soaked abdominal dressing to expose a second entry wound.

"Dammit! You never did do things by half, did you, Gil?" Staring down at his patient, he watched as Grissom's neck muscles became more prominent with each hard-fought breath. "He's using accessory muscles to breath; how much air is he getting in?"

"Not much; breath sounds are decreased on the left and nonexistent on the right." Rowe looked over at Grissom's face and noticed aspirated blood on the inside of the oxygen mask. "We're definitely going to have to get that air out of there and soon."

"Definite tension pneumo." Robbins commented as he pulled on the latex gloves Rowe handed him. "What do you want me to do?"

"No offence but I don't think now is the time to find out if you're still as quick with a chest tube as you used to be." Glancing up at the coroner, Rowe saw him nod in agreement. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to try and buy us some time with a needle decompression first and, if that works, let the chest tube wait until he's in the ER. I want to get him out of here as quickly as possible."

"You're calling the shots." Robbins reminded him. "I'm just here to lend a hand."

"Okay." Rowe agreed. "I'll handle that if you monitor his breathing; I'd prefer to know sooner rather than later if we're going to have to intubate."

"Okay; let's get to it." Scooting around, Robbins took over the oxygen mask and tilted Grissom's head back slightly in an effort to open the airway a little more.

"Hey Joe." Rowe called across to his partner as he rummaged through his kit. "How's that bleeding going?"

Having finished with the chest dressing, Mendez had taken over at the abdominal wound. "Still pumping away." He said as he eased a corner back to check. "The way it's going I'm leaning towards liver or spleen involvement; either way, I think we'd better move him soon"

"Five minutes tops." Rowe replied as he wiped Grissom's chest down with alcohol swabs. Throwing the soiled tissue away, he held up a large 14 gauge needle and catheter

Positioning the tip of the needle between the second and third rib an inch to the side of Grissom's sternum, Rowe quickly inserted the catheter through the chest wall and into the pleural cavity below. The rush of escaping air was confirmation that he'd hit the right spot.

"Perfect." Robbins commented as he watched Rowe withdraw the needle whilst holding the catheter in place. Picking up a flutter valve, Rowe attached it to the catheter before taping everything down securely to Grissom's chest.

"How's he breathing now?"

Lifting the mask, Robbins listened for a moment before replacing it. "Still struggling."

"Better safe than sorry." Pulling his kit closer, Rowe extracted a laryngoscope. Seeing that Mendez was almost finished securing a dressing to the abdominal wound, Rowe quickly scanned the rest of the room.

"Want to bring the stretcher in now, Joe?" He asked as he moved into position behind Grissom's head. "We'll move him as soon as he's tubed."

"You got it." Mendez rose to his feet and was about to leave when Robbins spoke up once more.

"It might be best to get him onto a backboard first. We have no way of knowing if he's done any further damage to that leg and, until we do, I don't think we can risk it. At least, if he's on a backboard, we won't be putting any strain on the leg when we lift him."

"And, Joe?" Rowe spoke hurriedly as he lubricated one end of an endotracheal tube. "Tee up one of the other guys to ride with us; I'm going to need someone to bag him on the way."

With a nod the younger medic hurried out and Al watched as Rowe slipped off the oxygen mask and tilted Grissom's head back with one hand as he reached for the laryngoscope with the other.

At the sound of a shocked gasp, Robbins turned quickly to find Catherine standing behind him, eyes fixed on the sight of her friend and colleague as Rowe steadily fed the tube down into his throat.

"Catherine, what are you doing in here?" Robbins asked, noticing Vartann standing behind her as well. They both moved to the side as another paramedic moved in to assist Rowe.

"No one seemed to know for sure what was happening so I convinced Tony to bring me up." She wiped her hand across her face as she continued to stare at Grissom. "God, that looks bad!"

"Well, we're giving him all the help we can." Robbins replied as he pulled himself up to his feet. He checked his watch surprised to see that so little time had passed. "With the catheter in place and a reliable airway, he stands a good chance of making it to the hospital." Pulling the gloves from his hands, Al threw them down beside the rest of the medical waste.

"I heard one of the uniforms outside say he'd been hit again." Vartann said as he eyed the dressing on Gil's left side. "I guess that's it there."

"Yeah, left upper abdomen." Robbins frowned. "That one may be a problem; he's bleeding heavily and in that area there's any number of things it could have hit." He stepped out of the way as Mendez returned with the stretcher. "There's not much we can do about it here though; the best thing we can do now is get him into an OR as soon as possible."

As the three paramedics began readying Grissom for transport, Robbins moved back, and Catherine and Vartann followed as he made his way towards Brass. Still seated against the wall, a bandage around his head and his right arm securely splinted; Jim didn't even glance their way as they approached.

Standing at his side, Catherine bent to try and catch his eye. "Jim? How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." Brass answered tersely, still intent on watching the activity around Grissom.

With a slight scowl, Robbins glanced over at the attendant paramedics. "Why is he still here? He should have been transported by now?"

"We've been trying to get him out of here for the past five minutes." The older of the two medics replied. "He won't get on the stretcher, won't walk out to the ambulance; he's refusing to do anything while his friend's still here."

"Jim?" Catherine knelt down beside him. "Come on, Gil's almost ready to go; you don't want to hold things up now, do you?"

"It's my fault." The toneless quality of Brass' voice surprised them all.

"No." Catherine assured him. "It was all down to Tate, Jim; none of this was your fault."

"You don't understand." Brass shook his head then groaned at the pain it caused. "We almost had him but I forgot about O'Riley's gun. I stood there and watched when Tate took it off Ray and put it into his waistband but I forgot all about it. What should have been an easy takedown turned into a Mexican standoff and I was responsible for it."

Hearing movement behind them, both Robbins and Vartann turned to see the paramedics easing Grissom onto the backboard. As Rowe and Mendez strapped him down, the third medic continued bagging him. Turning back, Al took charge.

"Come on, Jim; it's time to go." Robbins looked at Vartann. "Help him up, Detective; we'll walk him out to the rig."

Catherine stood up as Vartann moved in to assist Jim to his feet; having just seen Grissom lifted up onto the stretcher, Brass finally gave in and cooperated with him. With the paramedics leading the way, the foursome slowly made their way through the living room.

Keeping a close eye on Brass as Vartann led him towards the front door; Catherine slowed down even further and leaned in towards Robbins.

"That's just shock, right? Jim is going to be okay?"

"He'll be fine." Al assured her. "It's not everyday you see one of your friends shot twice in front of you and he's been through a lot these last few weeks; I'd probably be more surprised if he wasn't traumatized just now. When he gets to the hospital, they'll be sedating him to fix that elbow and, at the moment, some nice medicated rest is probably the best thing for him."

"And Gil?"

"Fingers crossed." Robbins gave a non-committal shrug. "We've given him the best chance we can, Catherine; the rest is up to him and the doctors at Desert Palm."

Turning to check on his progress, Catherine watched as blankets were placed over Grissom and the stretcher's straps were securely tightened. She looked back at Robbins.

"What do I tell Sara? She's going to want to see him before he goes."

Robbins thought for a moment as he watched Jim being helped up into the back of one of the ambulances.

"Get her." He stated decisively. "The only chance she's going to have is as they load him into the ambulance. If she's going to see him just now, it'll have to be out there."

Stepping out through the front door, Catherine inhaled deeply, desperate for fresh air after the stale, blood-tainted atmosphere of the townhouse. Searching the street for the team, she was not entirely surprised to find that they'd worked their way across the road and now stood together on the sidewalk in front of the complex.

Looking directly at Sara, she gestured all of them forward with her arm as she called out one word. "Hurry!"

It only took a second for the group to move, Sara sprinting ahead as they ran up the driveway and came to a halt in front of Catherine. Grabbing hold of Sara's arm, she ignored the others as she quickly led the younger woman towards her own front door.

"They're bringing him out now." She spoke quickly, aware that she didn't have much time. "You need to prepare yourself; he's unconscious and they've had to intubate him." She ignored Sara's gasp as she hurried on. "There's a second bullet wound and he's bleeding heavily from that; they've got to transport him fast but Doc said it was okay for you to see him before they go."

"How's Brass?" O'Riley asked as the ambulance they'd watched Jim entering slowly moved off.

"He'll be fine." Catherine answered absently. "We'll see him at the hospital when we get there."

"What happened in there, Cath?" Nick moved up to stand closer to Sara.

"I'm not too sure; I really wasn't paying much attention to anything other than Grissom." She replied as Rowe appeared in the doorway, drawing the stretcher out after him. "The only thing I can tell you is that Tate's dead, anything more than that is going to have to come from Jim and, at the moment, he's not in any condition to give a statement."

As soon as the stretcher was clear of the door, Al Robbins stepped in beside it. "Just give us a second." He said to Rowe. "There's somebody here that needs to see him."

"That's about all we can spare." Rowe gave Sara a reassuring smile as Catherine drew her closer. "It's alright, he's stable for now."

Unable to speak, Sara's hand flew to her mouth as she stared at the lifeless body in front of her. She felt Catherine's hand disappear from her arm and slip around her waist as the older woman offered her support. Blinking back the tears she felt forming, Sara felt carefully along the edge of the stretcher, finding Grissom's cold hand and slipping her own around it.

She was vaguely aware of Warrick's muttered expletive as he came forward for a look followed by Nick's quiet voice and a half-hearted attempt by Greg to raise a smile but she ignore them all; none of that was important now, the only thing that mattered, the only thing that meant anything, lay on the stretcher she leant against as she carefully bent over to place a soft kiss on the hand she still held.

"I'm going with him." She stated calmly as she tightened her grip on his hand.

"Sara, there's no room." Robbins spoke up before anyone else could. "We'll all be following the ambulance to the hospital anyway; you can ride with any of us that you want."

"I'm going with him!" Her tone brooked no argument. "I'm not letting him make that trip alone."

Seeing Rowe impatiently checking his watch, Al tried again. "Sara, there's going to be two paramedics in the back with him, he'll be fine but there definitely won't be room-"

"You can ride in the front with me." Mendez interrupted, as anxious as his partner to get their patient on the road. "It won't be the same as being in the back but at least you'll be with him."

As Sara shot Mendez a thankful smile, Rowe got the stretcher rolling again. "Since that's decided, can we get moving now?"

As the men watched the medics securing the stretcher in the back of the ambulance, Catherine walked with Sara towards the passenger side of the rig.

"We won't be far behind you, okay?" Pulling open the door, she waited as Sara climbed inside then closed it behind her. "I know Doc wants to get there as soon as possible, as well as the guys, so I'd guess ten maybe fifteen minutes and we should be with you."

Hearing Mendez pull open the driver's door, Sara smiled at her colleague. "Thanks Cath, for everything and don't worry, he'll be fine, I know he will."

Catherine stood back as the large vehicle slowly made its way out of the driveway. As soon as it hit the street, the light bar came back on accompanied by the siren and Mendez picked up speed as they headed towards the hastily disbanded roadblock.

Watching them disappear up the road, Catherine thought back over Sara's last comment and prayed that she was right.

TBC

**A/N: **Sorry about the hold up on this one, it wasn't intentional I assure you; it's just been a busy week and finding the time to get this done has been difficult to say the least but I finally got there.

One thing I did do this week was get my car washed, and not just any old wash either, I decided to do my bit to stimulate the economy by forking out for a full auto detail (the fact that the car's only two months old and I'm still in that weird 'honeymoon' stage with it may have had something to do with it too). Now, hands up all those who can guess what was handed back to me along with the keys.

I searched that vehicle, inside and out, a couple of times looking for that damn flashdrive and, apparently, it's been hiding itself underneath the center console all this time. The guy only found it when he noticed the word Toshiba written in bright white peeping out through a gap as he was cleaning the interior. Turns out the slot Mazda put in the console for the handbrake is just big enough for that particular drive to fit through. How it got in there in the first place is still a mystery but I don't think I'll worry too much about that one.

The main thing is I now have all my files back, safe in the knowledge that they've been absolutely nowhere near a canine alimentary canal. Yay!!!!


	47. Chapter 47

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 47**

Quietly standing with his back against the wall of the treatment room, Dr. Gary Morgan watched as the gash on Jim Brass' forehead was sutured closed. He'd been leaving the operating suite after his only scheduled surgery of the day when word had filtered through of the morning's events and after hearing the names of those involved, he'd hurried downstairs to the emergency department just in time to see the trauma team rush past with a clearly critical Gil Grissom.

With the final stitch in and a fresh, white dressing in place, the ER resident pushed his stool back from the gurney and removed the latex gloves from his hands.

"There you go, Captain Brass." Tossing his gloves in the nearest bin, he noticed the orthopedic surgeon's presence for the first time. "Hey, Gary; I didn't hear you come in."

"I haven't been here long." Morgan replied as he pushed of the wall and approached the gurney. "Hello Jim, couldn't stay away, huh?"

"Have you seen Gil?" Snapping his eyes open at the familiar voice, Brass turned almost pleading eyes on the newly-arrived doctor.

"Only in passing." Morgan adjusted the back of the gurney so that Jim could sit up. "The trauma team took a quick look at him and headed straight for surgery. I spoke to Sara for a minute or two though and she said he handled the ride over here well."

"But rushing him to surgery? That's not good, is it?"

"In his case, time is of the essence; Grissom's getting all the help he needs as quickly as we can give it to him." Seeing the anxiety in Jim's eyes, Morgan decided not to rush into his examination and, pulling the stool back over, took a seat beside the gurney. "Want to tell me how the two of you ended up back in here?"

With his eyes set on a focal point somewhere just above Morgan's head, Brass sounded every inch the police detective as he calmly rattled off the details of what had happened but he came to a stop as he neared the climax.

"So, Tate had a second gun and when he pulled it, Grissom was forced to act?" Morgan prompted.

"Gil gave up or, at least, I thought he had; he said he couldn't carry on any longer and when Tate asked him if it was time to die, he said yes." A tremor ran through Jim as he remembered the moment. "He'd lowered his gun as he spoke but suddenly his hand came up again and all hell broke loose."

Sensing movement behind him, Gary Morgan turned to find Catherine Willows standing just outside the doorway. Having driven in with Al Robbins, they'd arrived at the hospital less than fifteen minutes after Grissom's ambulance. When informed that he was already on his way to surgery, Robbins had decided to head upstairs to check on Sara while Catherine, intent on checking Jim's welfare, had flashed her lab ID and gained admittance to the treatment rooms.

Seeing her give a nod to continue, Morgan returned his attention to Brass. "What happened next?"

"It all happened so fast; I remember the sound of breaking glass and shots but I'm not sure who got off the first round. Tate was behind me so I couldn't see him at all but I did see Gil get hit again, saw his eyes roll up as he started to fall." Using his good arm, Jim wiped his hand across his mouth. "God, that's something I never want to watch again."

"And after Grissom went down? What then?"

"More like _as_ Grissom went down." Jim corrected. "I got slammed in the back as Tate fell forward. The force pushed me down and that's when I did this." His finger came up as he pointed at his forehead. "I struggled trying to get my hands free to get him off me but I must have passed out for a minute or two because the next thing I know, the SWAT boys are pulling him to one side and cutting through the tape around my wrists."

"Did you put your elbow out in the fall or later when you were struggling?"

Jim thought for a minute before giving a slight shrug. "I don't know, Doc; sorry. To tell you the truth, I wasn't aware it had happened at all until the paramedics started treating me."

Picking up the medical chart that lay on the counter beside the gurney, Morgan started making notes.

"Anything other than the head and elbow that we need to be aware of?" He asked without looking up.

"No, I got off lightly." Jim stated as Morgan continued to write. "I deserve a lot more."

Ignoring the chart for the moment, Morgan looked over at his patient. "Excuse me?"

"It's my fault it all went wrong; if I'd remembered about that damn gun, we might still be in that room but at least Gil wouldn't be in the condition he is now."

"No." Morgan agreed. "He'd be dead and, no doubt, you would be too. It sounds to me as though you were stuck in that house with someone who'd decided to play judge, jury and executioner to defend what? A dream? You said yourself that Tate was delusional _and_ suicidal; do you really think that, given enough time, he'd have just surrendered and let you both go?" Morgan shook his head. "It was never going to end that way, Jim and both you and Gil knew that."

When Brass hung his head and said nothing, Morgan kept talking.

"I know you can't see it at the moment but none of this is your fault. You were stuck in a situation where you had almost no control; your friend had been shot, you knew that he needed help fast and you also knew that you were next in line. You had to try something, Jim and no one's going to blame you because it didn't go exactly to plan."

"Gil might." Jim still didn't look up. "If he lives."

"God, you're a stubborn man!" Morgan gave an exasperated sigh. "True; when Grissom was in here before he wasn't exactly acting like himself but, from what I've seen, he's not the type to blame you what happened."

"What about Sara?"

"One of the first things Sara said when she saw me was 'How's Jim?' so I don't really think you have much to worry about there either." Pushing the stool back slightly, Morgan got up. "Look Jim, you're tired, in pain and clearly in shock; what you need is to get some rest. I'm going to arrange for x-rays right now and then we'll see what needs doing to that arm of yours, okay?

Brass gave a single nod.

"After you're back in one piece, we're going to find you a nice quiet room for tonight at least and you're going to get some sleep."

"I can't sleep until I find out what's happening with Gil."

"I'll be knocking you out before I even touch that elbow, Jim so I promise you; you _will_ sleep." Seeing the head come up in protest, Morgan raised a hand to silence him. "But I will also make sure that you're kept up to date with Grissom's condition, okay?"

Brass inhaled deeply as he watched the doctor close the file and place it back on the counter.

"Okay." He finally agreed. "But I want to know the minute there's any news; good _or_ bad."

"Agreed." Sliding his pen back into the pocket of his white coat, Morgan gave Jim an encouraging smile. "Now, I'll go and set up those x-rays and someone will be in to take you down as soon as possible but, until then, try and get some rest." He was headed towards the door when he turned back once more. "And, Jim? There's only one person that was in there today that deserves to carry the blame for what happened and that's definitely not you."

Exiting the room, he found Catherine waiting for him a few yards further down the corridor. She smiled broadly as he approached.

"So, psychology a hobby of yours, Doc?"

"I briefly considered psychiatry when I was in med school but I soon realized that it was a lot easier to treat a broken bone than a broken mind." He returned her grin before becoming serious. "I know I shouldn't have done that but I could see he needed to talk."

"It's fine; don't worry about it." She assured him. "With Tate dead, it's almost all over anyway; just got to finish up the paperwork and then we can close the file for good. That _was_ nice work with Jim though; it's probably the closest we'll get to a statement from him today and it helps fill in a couple of blanks. And, he certainly sounded a lot better than he did back at the scene; he had me worried there for a while."

As they approached the nurse's desk, Catherine looked out at the seating area beyond and saw that the rest of the team had arrived and were nervously waiting for her to join them.

"I wouldn't worry too much about Jim." Morgan commented. "He'll be fine once he's had a chance to process everything but, in the meantime, if someone could drop in on him occasionally after he's settled in a room, it might help to put his mind at rest."

"That won't be a problem." Continuing on past the desk, Catherine nodded her head in the direction of her other colleagues. "I'm sure O'Riley will stay with him and the rest of us can take it in turns to sit with Jim and Sara; it might help to break up the monotony of the waiting room if there somewhere else we can escape to every so often."

"I'll let you know as soon as Jim's ready for visitors." Morgan told her. "You'll all be up in the surgical waiting room?"

"Yeah; Sara and Al Robbins are up there now so I guess that's where we're heading next."

"Okay, then." Morgan checked the time on his watch. "Depending on the results of the x-rays, I'll probably be finished with Jim within an hour so I'll swing by and check in with you all when I'm done."

"Hopefully by then we'll have some news." Catherine took a few steps back from the desk. "And, thank you for the help you've given Jim; you probably did more for him back there then you're about to do putting his elbow back together."

Turning around, she made her way over to the four men, seeing them all quickly get to their feet as she neared.

"Jim's okay?" O'Riley asked as she came to a stop in front of them.

"He's fine." Catherine told him. "We'll be able to see him in an hour or so."

"And Griss?" Nick inquired anxiously.

"Is already up in surgery."

"Already?" He frowned. "Isn't that kind of quick?"

"Better that than not quick enough." Greg broke in. "Sara's upstairs?"

"Yes." Catherine confirmed. "Al went up about ten minutes ago; he should be with her now." Turning slightly, she gestured towards the elevators. "Same place as last time; I'm sure you remember the way."

Warrick waited for the other three to go ahead before slinging his arm around Catherine's shoulder and following slowly along behind.

"Did they tell you how he's doing?" He asked her quietly

"No, the nurse at the desk didn't seem to know anything." She told him. "I got more information from Al on the drive over here than I did from her." She slowly shook her head. "It doesn't look good, Warrick; I'm really not sure that he can make it through this."

"Grissom's tough." Warrick told her as he slowed even further and pulled her in closer to his side. "He'll give it his best shot and, don't forget, he has Sara to fight for now too. God knows, it took him long enough to get his head out of his ass and let her in; do you really think he'd give her up now and let Tate win?"

"When you put it like that? No, I guess he wouldn't." Seeing Greg holding the elevator door for them, she looked up at Warrick and smiled. "Thank you; I think I needed that little pep talk more than you'll ever know."

"Anytime." He said, returning her smile. "Now, let's go upstairs and see just how stubborn he can really be."

* * *

Having watched Greg's restless pacing for the past ten minutes; Catherine allowed her younger colleague one last lap of the room before she spoke up.

"How about grabbing us all some fresh coffee, Greg?" She suggested as she felt through her pockets for the twenty she knew she had stashed in there earlier. "After that, maybe you could go swap places with Nick."

"I'd rather stay here." He replied as he came to a stop in front of her, he leant down closer to her ear before adding quietly. "I want to be around for Sara; just in case."

"Go, Greg." Sara's voice took him by surprise. "There's no need to be here 'just in case'. It could be a while yet before we know anything and when Jim wakes up he's going to want to know what's happening."

"Warrick could go." He suggested as he slid down into the seat beside her. "I'd really feel better if I stayed."

"There's no need, Greg; really." Sara insisted kindly. "I appreciate it but, to be honest, you'd be doing me a bigger favor if you went downstairs and brought me back some coffee that _didn't_ come out of that damn machine in the corridor."

Getting slowly to his feet, Warrick picked up the empty cups that littered the small table in front of them. "Come on, Greg, I'll come down with you; I could do with some fresh air anyway." He tossed the cups in the trash before turning back. "The same for you, Doc or do you want something else?"

"Coffee's fine, thanks." Al Robbins replied as he watched Greg studiously ignore the twenty Catherine was holding out for him to take. As both men left, she stuffed it back in her pocket before looking over at Sara.

"Still holding up okay?"

"I'm fine." The younger woman gave her a weak smile before checking her watch; something Catherine had seen her do countless times since arriving.

"How long has it been now?"

"Just over three hours and a half hours." Turning her head, Sara checked the large double doors that led to the surgical suite. "They said it would take two to four so it shouldn't be long now."

"That was just an estimate, Sara." Robbins pointed out. "It all depends on what they find and what they have to do; it could take a lot longer than they said."

"I know." She turned back to look at him. "Actually, as long as they're taking good care of him, they can take all the time they like."

"You know, after the way you were acting this morning, I was expecting to get here and find that you'd either shut down completely or decked half the hospital staff." Catherine looked up to see an amused smile on the younger woman's face. "Instead, we walk in and you're calmly filling out paperwork. Why the difference?"

"Simple; this morning the man that I love was in the hands of a lunatic with a gun, this afternoon he's in the hands of a surgeon with a scalpel." Sara gave a quick, almost embarrassed shrug. "Of the two, I definitely have more faith in the doctor."

"They'll do everything they can to see that he makes it, Sara." Reaching across, Al laid a comforting hand on her arm.

Seeing movement in the corridor, Catherine quickly got to her feet. "Ecklie's here." She announced as she started towards the door. "Hopefully, I can head him off."

"Catherine." Ecklie came to a stop in the middle of the corridor. "Any news?"

"Nothing yet" Seeing Greg and Warrick appear from around the corner, Catherine stepped to one side to allow them to pass. "He's still in surgery."

"And Brass?"

"Well, the stitched him up and reset his elbow and, last time I checked, he was sleeping like a baby thanks to the sedatives they've given him. The nurse said she'd call up here when he woke."

"That's good." Ecklie commented. "Vartann said he'd be here in about half an hour; he's hoping to get a statement from him. Oh, and the sheriff will be dropping by later on as well."

"What joy!" Catherine commented acidly. "You know, I think it would really be better if Jim's statement was left until tomorrow. Let him get over the shock of what's happened first; after all, there's no hurry for it now."

"He's already got the report from the marksman, so I don't suppose it will matter too much if he has to wait for one from Brass." As Catherine watched, a satisfied smile lit up Ecklie's face. "Not that SWAT can claim the credit for this one; turns out it was CSI that put an end to the whole thing."

"Gil was the one who killed Tate?" Catherine asked incredulously.

"Yep; Johnson said that just as he lined up, Grissom bent slightly then suddenly stood up again forcing him to pull his shot to the right at the last minute." He grinned at Catherine. "Dayshift pulled the bullet out of the wall about six inches away from where Tate was standing."

"I only glanced at the body when I was in the townhouse." Catherine admitted. "Where was he hit?"

"Middle of the forehead, dead center; according to the coroner, Tate would have been dead before he hit the floor. It was a perfect shot."

"I don't know about that, Conrad." Catherine frowned slightly. "If you're aiming a gun at someone you point it towards the largest mass; either the chest or abdomen which is where Grissom was hit. But his shot ended up hitting Tate in the head and there's no way Gil would have aimed there. I think was he shot first and his arm swung up as he was falling; pulling that trigger was more a reflex action then anything else."

Ecklie thought about it for a moment before giving a shrug. "I'm still claiming it as a CSI victory. It doesn't matter whether the shot was meant or not; it still did the job."

"It might matter to Grissom." Catherine pointed out. "As far as I know, the only place he's ever used his gun is at the range; half the time he doesn't even carry it with him when he's out on a call."

"Well, I guess that's something he's going to have to deal with when he gets better." Looking past her, Ecklie watched as Sara sipped from a polystyrene cup before looking back at Catherine. "Did they tell you what his chances were?"

She shook her head. "The nurse I spoke to didn't want to tell me anything but I asked Al Robbins when Sara went to the bathroom and, according to him, even after they relieved the pressure on his chest and intubated him, Gil was still struggling. Apparently, the mortality rate for trauma patients with respiratory distress is about fifty percent and when you add shock to that, the figure rises to seventy-five."

"Dammit." Ecklie said softly. "How's Sidle doing?"

Bristling slightly with his continued use of Sara's surname, Catherine glared at him before answering. "She's holding up well, actually; much better than I think I would under the circumstances."

"That's good." He shuffled his feet and checked his watch, obviously anxious to leave. "Look, you know we don't get on too well with each other so I don't really want to go in there just now and possible upset her so, could you let her know that as soon as Dayshift has finished with the townhouse and everything's squared away, I'm going to arrange for a clean-up crew to go in there. The place is a real mess and I don't think it's something she should have to walk into."

Catherine's glare turned to a grateful smile. "Thank you, Conrad, that's very thoughtful."

"Oh, one more thing; the Lyon County authorities went out to Tate's sister's place to let her know what had happened; she was shocked of course but apparently the main thing she was interested in was whether or not Grissom was okay. They're going to try and get her down here in the next day or so to formally identify her brother's body." He frowned, confused. "It seems she has to clear it with her doctor first."

"She's pregnant." Catherine told him.

"Ah, now it makes sense." He commented. "Anyway, I thought I should mention it, just in case she turns up here; I'm not sure how Sidle would take that."

"Well, I certainly can't speak for her but Gil got on well with Clare and she helped him out when he was up in Fernley; I don't think there'd be a problem but I'll let Sara know about it anyway."

"Okay, I better go. I'm going to be at the scene for another hour or so and then I'll be heading over to the morgue for Tate's autopsy." He started walking backwards away from her as he spoke. "Let me know the minute there's any news, okay?"

"I will Conrad and thanks again." Raising her hand in a quick wave, Catherine waited until he'd rounded the corner before turning and heading back into the waiting room.

"You managed to get rid of him then." Robbins commented as she grabbed her coffee and sank back into her chair.

"Turns out it wasn't all that hard." She took a sip of the still hot liquid. "I think if you ever wanted to torture Conrad Ecklie you'd just have to lock him in a small room with us."

Greg laughed and, turning her head, Catherine fixed him with a stare. "I thought you were supposed to be taking over from Nick?"

"Hey, I didn't want to disturb your conversation out there by barging past a second time." He quickly got to his feet. "But, now that you're finished, I'm free to-"

He was interrupted by Sara almost leaping from her seat, her stare fixed on the figure that had just appeared in the corridor.

A very solemn looking figure in surgical scrubs.

TBC


	48. Chapter 48

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 48**

Moving quickly out to the corridor, Sara stared at the man standing in front of her.

Jim Brass, dressed in blue hospital scrubs, remained silent but he watched, almost warily, as she advanced towards him. She'd only seen him from a distance back at the townhouse and now, examining the securely strapped arm held tightly to his chest as well as the large adhesive dressing that covered the laceration on his forehead, she realized for the first time how close they'd actually come to losing them both.

"You shouldn't be up here." Sara said softly as she took the last few steps towards him. "You're supposed to be resting in your room."

Mindful of his injuries, she carefully drew him into a hug. She could feel the tension in his body as she held him against her and tightened her grip when she heard a barely muffled sob.

"God, Sara; I'm so sorry." His free hand came up and wound around her waist as he returned the embrace. "It all went so wrong."

"It's alright, Jim." Hearing approaching footsteps, Sara turned them both until Jim's back was to the doorway and she could see Catherine over his shoulder.

"Give us a minute, okay."

At the older woman's silent nod, Sara released her hold and, taking his left hand, led Jim away from the open doorway. Stopping at the ladies room further along the corridor, she knocked once and waited for a reply before pushing the door open and drawing him inside.

He stood quietly and looked around the brightly lit room as she locked the door to ensure their privacy.

"How are you?" She asked quietly as she lent against the wall opposite him.

"Fine." He gave a dismissive shrug. "Elbow was out again; Morgan put it back."

"You know, Cath told me everything that happened inside that house." His eyes snapped to meet hers as she spoke. "I am not going to allow you to blame yourself for any of this, Jim."

"But Gil- "

"Knew exactly what he was doing when he went through that door." She cut him off. "He didn't walk in there blindly, Jim; Tate wanted him dead and Gil knew that."

"If I had remembered about- "

"Ifs will drive you insane." She said with a smile. "Believe me; I've spent this afternoon going through them all; they don't get you anywhere and they don't change anything but there is _one_ 'if' that I'm sure of: if you hadn't been in there with him today, we'd be standing in the morgue right now instead of a hospital."

"You don't know that." He replied cynically.

"Don't I?" She asked. "What would have happened if you and O'Riley hadn't wandered in there this morning? If it was just Gil and Marnie? Would she have been able to stay calm and keep him going long enough to try and get the upper hand?"

"It didn't work though, did it?"

"You gave it your best shot, Jim; no one can ask for anymore than that" Lifting his hand again, she gave it a squeeze. "And, in the end, you both came out of there alive; Tate didn't."

Lifting his head, he suddenly remembered what he'd come up for in the first place.

"Oh God; how's Gil?"

"We haven't heard anything yet." Letting his hand go, Sara pushed off the wall. "He's still in surgery."

He stared into the large mirror that covered the wall beside him. "How long has it been now?"

"Almost four hours." Sara replied as she flicked the lock and pulled the door open; when he didn't move she reached over and carefully, touched his right shoulder. "Are you coming?"

He caught her eye in the mirror but didn't answer and Sara took a guess as to what the problem was. "None of them blame you either, you know."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." She gave him a reassuring smile. "They're your friends, Jim, never forget that." As he turned from the mirror, her smile widened. "Coming?"

"Yeah." He answered, his face breaking into a smile for the first time since his sudden appearance. "Of course I am."

Holding the door, she waited for Jim to exit before letting it closed behind them. Moving around him, she slipped her right arm through his left and walked him slowly back down the corridor to the waiting room.

Catherine was impatiently waiting for them just inside the door, a mixture of anger and relief flooding through as she got her first good look at Brass.

"What the hell are you doing up here?" Reaching out, she too pulled him into a gentle hug. "And where are Nick and O'Riley?"

"I'm here because I need to be." Easing away from her, Jim lowered himself carefully into the nearest chair as he looked up at her. "And I have no idea where Nick and Ray are; when I woke up the room was empty."

"You okay, Jim?" Warrick asked, concerned at the detective's pallor and obvious discomfort.

"Fine, thanks Rick." Brass squeezed Sara's hand as she came to sit beside him. "I feel a lot better now."

"Where did you get the scrubs?" Greg enquired curiously.

"That's what they gave me instead of a gown." He replied. "I think Morgan suspected I'd make it up here one way or another and wanted to make sure I didn't moon everyone I passed."

Hearing hurried footsteps in the corridor, Warrick leaned past Brass to see out through the door. "Lose something, guys?"

"Yeah, him" Nick pointed at Brass as he and O'Riley entered the room. "We only left you alone for five minutes; couldn't you have stayed put until one of us got back?"

"Hey, when I woke up the room was empty." Jim went on the defensive. "How was I supposed to know you were coming back? I didn't even know you'd been there in the first place. Sedation, remember?"

"We've been all over this place." O'Riley gave a quick chuckle. "I came back from the cafeteria with two cups of coffee and almost wore them both when Nick came tearing out of the room looking for you."

"Where were you, Nick?" Catherine gave him a disapproving frown.

"Men's room." The Texan explained as he took a seat beside Greg. "I thought it would be safe considering someone appeared to be sound asleep. I walked back in, saw the empty bed and panicked."

"Surely logic should have told you where he was headed." Al Robbins couldn't resist commenting as he watched Nick squirm, uncomfortable under so much scrutiny.

"After everything that's happened today, I guess logic kind of took a back seat." Nick broke into a grin. "Well, that and we didn't really want to come in here and admit that he'd given us the slip."

"Ms. Sidle?" The voice startled them all and, dropping Jim's hand, Sara quickly scrambled to her feet.

"Yes, that's me." She confirmed, moving forward to shake the hand that was held out in greeting.

"I'm Diane Carter, one of the trauma surgeons here at Desert Palm." Releasing Sara's hand, she gestured towards the seats. "Shall we?"

When they were both seated, the doctor turned to face Sara. "Dr. Grissom is stable; he came through the surgery just fine and we'll be moving him to the Surgical Intensive Care Unit shortly."

Sara's sigh of relief was echoed by the others and her face lit up with a smile.

"Thank God." Catherine exclaimed as she watched the surgeon open up the file she'd carried in with her.

"Let's start off with the chest injury, shall we?" She said as she shuffled through the first few pages. "I don't know if his assailant knew anatomy or whether it was just luck on Dr. Grissom's part but with a large caliber weapon such as the one that was used here; anything other than a point-blank shot probably would have torn his chest to pieces."

"I'm pretty sure the bullet Tate used was a hollow-point." Jim said. "He said he wanted to make sure that Gil's death was slow and painful."

"He almost got his wish." Carter commented. "The bullet went in just below the shoulder blade and penetrated the lung towards the top of the first lobe; it then exited just below the clavicle. The thing that saved Dr. Grissom was the fact that it didn't hit anything hard on its way through; we did find fragments of the bullet in the wound but if it had clipped a bone on its journey, it would have turned his chest into mincemeat."

"Gil said he thought some of his ribs were broken."

"He was right; there are fractures in the first four ribs, all caused by either small fragments from that bullet or the blast wave from the shot itself."

"You resected the lung?" Robbins asked. Seeing the surgeon's curious look, he introduced himself. "Sorry, I'm Dr. Albert Robbins." He leaned forward to shake Carter's hand. "One of the coroners for Clark County; I work with Gil."

"Ah yes, Gary Morgan mentioned you'd be here." She consulted her notes before continuing. "We stapled off the damaged section of his lung, repaired the chest wall and inserted a chest tube. We've cleaned everything up as much as possible however; the main danger with that injury now is going to be from infection. We'll be loading him up with antibiotics to try and head that off though; so, with a bit more luck, we'll be able to keep on top of it."

She looked around the group, noting several nods as they all took the information in.

"He's still intubated and he'll remain on the ventilator until we're confident that he's breathing effectively on his own. It's hard to say how long that will take but the sooner he's off it the better."

"And the chest tube?" Sara asked.

"That will remain in place until x-rays show us that there's no fluid or air in his chest and that the lung has fully re-expanded. Going on past experience, he'll probably have it in for about a week."

Flipping the page, she cleared her throat. "Now, the second bullet wound; thankfully, that one was a smaller caliber." Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a small plastic bag containing the bloodstained bullet. "A .38 to be precise."

Feeling Brass begin to tense up beside her, Sara gave his hand a squeeze with her own as Catherine took the bag from the surgeon and examined the bullet through the plastic.

"It hit the spleen?" Robbins guessed, remembering the comment Mendez made back at the townhouse.

"Went right through it." Carter confirmed as she looked at him. "Unfortunately, there was just too much damage to attempt anything other than a splenectomy. After it penetrated the spleen, the bullet nicked a couple of ribs and lost most of its momentum; it ended up lodged in the intercostal muscles. We checked everything else but there was no sign of trauma to any of the other organs." Turning from Al back to Sara, the surgeon smiled. "Like I said, he was very lucky."

"So, that's everything?" Sara asked hopefully.

"That's it." Carter looked around the group. "Dr. Morgan has ordered x-rays of his leg and they were setting up for those when I left; once that's done he'll be taken to the SICU."

"When do you think he'll wake up?" Greg asked the surgeon.

"That's hard to say." Carter told him. "It could be three or four hours but, then again, it could be three or four days. I can't really make any prediction on that; almost everything from here on out is up to him.

"When can I see him?" Sara asked anxiously.

The doctor checked her watch. "Give us another fifteen minutes or so to get him settled in and hooked up and then he's all yours." Closing her file, she got to her feet. "He's got a long road ahead of him but if things keep going as smoothly as they have so far, I can't think of any reason why Dr. Grissom shouldn't make a full recovery."

Standing beside her, Sara broke into a pleased grin. "Thank you, Doctor, for everything you've done for him."

"That's what I'm here for." Carter commented, returning Sara's smile. "Dr. Morgan is in surgery himself at the moment but I imagine he'll be round to see you as soon as he's seen those x-rays. In the meantime, I'll have someone come and get you when Dr. Grissom's ready for visitors."

After watching the surgeon leave the room and head back through the swinging doors of the operating suite, Sara almost collapsed back into her seat.

"You okay?" Jim asked as he took her hand again.

"I'm fine." Sara pushed herself up as she looked around the others. "Just relieved and happy." She gave a quick laugh. "And desperate to see him."

Jim gave her hand a squeeze. "It won't be long now."

* * *

Seeing the nurse they were following stop outside the large door that led to the SICU, Jim came to a halt himself and grabbed at Sara's arm to get her attention.

"Are you sure you want me in there with you?" He asked, his earlier anxiety returning full force. "Maybe Catherine should go in first."

"Jim, I want you with me for a reason." She explained, impatient to get to her destination but also understanding Jim's sudden reluctance. "Neither of us is going to be able to relax until we see for ourselves that he's alright and the only way to do that is to go through that door. Catherine can see him later; at the moment, I think it's more important that you do."

"Are you sure?" He repeated his earlier question.

"If you ask me that once more and I'll hit you." She joked as she grabbed hold of his left hand. "Now come on; I want to get in there."

Entering the door the nurse held open for them, both washed their hands as directed at the sink by the entrance before turning to look at the large room itself.

The nurses' station sat against one wall and surrounding it on three sides were the twelve glass-walled cubicles that made up the Surgical Intensive Care Unit. While Jim looked around curiously at the sights of the unit, Sara's eyes immediately fixed on the occupant of bed 8.

Completely forgetting about Brass and their guide, she made her way towards the small room, finally coming to a stop at the foot of the bed. It wasn't until she sensed Jim standing beside her and felt his hand on her shoulder that she was able to lift her gaze from the unconscious figure on the bed.

"You alright?" He asked, watching her as she glanced around the rest of the cubicle.

Sara's only reply was a nod as she continued to take in the scene before her.

With the head of the bed raised slightly, Grissom lay surrounded by tubes and wires. Electrodes and sensors ran from various parts of his body as the machines that surrounded him kept a careful record of his progress. An infusion pump next to the bed delivered a combination of blood and medications to the central line that had been inserted into the left side of his neck.

A large white dressing covered most of the right side of his chest; the freshly repaired exit wound and incision site hidden from view. The chest tube that now replaced the needle and valve that had been inserted back at the townhouse ran down from a small incision between his ribs and a second dressing was taped across his abdomen, a drainage tube snaking out from beneath one corner.

While Jim remained at the bottom of the bed, Sara made her way carefully up the right-hand side. Desperate to touch him, she automatically reached out her hand before self-consciously pulling it back again.

"It's okay; you won't hurt him."

Startled by the voice, Sara looked up quickly and saw a different nurse enter the room and pass behind Jim as she made her way to the small desk in the corner of the cubicle. After quickly checking the readouts on the computer in front of her, she introduced herself. "I'm Lisa; Dr. Grissom's nurse for the night."

"How's he doing?" Jim asked as he returned the nurse's smile.

"Good." She replied as she got to her feet again. "His blood pressure and heart rate are almost back to normal, body temperature is still a bit low but it's coming up gradually and, although he's still not responding to anything we're expecting that to change once the anesthetic wears off properly." Moving towards the bed, she made a few minor adjustments to the infusion pump. "It really is fine to touch him, you know." She said quietly to Sara as she tidied the sheet that covered Grissom's lower body. "Speak to him too; let him know he's not alone."

With a grateful smile, Sara lifted her hand again and gently placed it on Grissom's head, slowly letting her fingers slide through his hair.

"He looks so peaceful." She commented as she stared down at his face. The tape that held the ventilator tube securely in place stood out starkly against the dark bruise that covered the left side of his jaw, the gash Tate had caused with his gun, now held closed with small strips of tape. Leaning in, she placed a gentle kiss to his forehead before whispering quietly in his ear. "It's okay, it's all over; he can't hurt you anymore."

Listening to the sound of the ventilator and watching his friend's chest rise and fall in time with the machine, Jim felt relief flood through him as he realized that Sara was right: he was fine, Grissom was safe and Tate was dead; it really was all over. True, Gil had a long road ahead of him but he was strong enough to get through it, and they'd all be there to give him whatever help and support he needed.

Brass closed his eyes briefly, and feeling himself start to sway, quickly grabbed hold of the end of the hospital bed. Both Sara and Lisa were at his side in seconds.

"God, are you alright?" Sara asked, her eyes full of concern as she held tightly to his upper arm.

"I'm fine." He assured her. "I just... guess I've been standing too long."

"I'll get you a seat." Lisa said as she hurried out of the cubicle, returning moments later with a stool. Against his protests, both women eased him onto it.

"I'll allow you five more minutes and then you're going back to your room." Sara told him as she returned to Grissom's side, sliding her hand around his as she leaned against the side of the bed. "Catherine can come in here to take you place while O'Riley-" Breaking off mid-sentence, Sara glanced down at the bed in surprise. "Lisa, could you come over and check something for me?"

"Sure." Hoping down from her own stool, the nurse hurried over.

"What's wrong, Sara?" Jim asked anxiously as he quickly scanned the bed for signs of trouble.

"Nothing's wrong." Sara assured him as she turned to the nurse. Lifting her hand, Sara brought Grissom's up with it, his fingers holding tightly to her own. "Is this just reflex?"

"No." Lisa smiled. "I'd say that's recognition; he's heard your voice and decided to let you know that he's aware that you're here. It's a good sign." Turning from the bed, she returned to her desk.

"I've got you, babe; I'm not going anywhere." Leaning over, Sara tenderly placed a kiss to his fingers before lowering their joined hands back to the bed. She looked back up at Jim and grinned. "I said he'd be fine."

"Looks like you were right." Jim returned her smile with one of his own before becoming serious. "Thank you for making me come in here, Sara; you have no idea how much better I feel now."

"Ready to get some more rest?" She asked as she watched him carefully.

"Yeah." He admitted. "I think now I'll actually be able to."

"Uh, I think it might be better if we get a wheelchair for you." Lisa commented when she saw him start to rise. "Just sit tight and I'll go and arrange it."

Ignoring her advice, Jim pushed himself to his feet and made his way up the side of the bed towards Sara, pulling her into a one-armed hug.

"I'll let Catherine know she can come in and see him before they take me downstairs."

Stepping back, he reached out and covered both her and Gil's hands with his own. "Take care of him, okay?"

"You know I will." She commented as he was helped into the waiting wheelchair.

Sara watched as the unit's heavy door closed behind Jim before turning her attention back to Grissom and, squeezing his hand, added one more word.

"Always."

TBC

**A/N:** Just because I like to state the obvious, we're almost at the end of this story, guys; there's just one more chapter and then an epilogue to go. The biggest surprise for me through all of this has been the number of people who have stuck with it and I'd really like to take this opportunity to thank you all; your support, encouragement and, at times, threats have all been invaluable.


	49. Chapter 49

**Lex Talionis**

**Chapter 49**

Walking along the now familiar corridor that led to the Surgical Intensive Care Unit, Catherine Willows stopped and stared at the scene playing out up ahead of her. It had been just over a day since the shooting and she'd found little to smile about but the sight of Jim Brass in the midst of an escalating, albeit one-sided, argument with a hospital vending machine certainly lightened her mood.

Moving forward again, Catherine had to admire his restraint; mindful of where he was, Jim was managing to keep his abusive diatribe down to a more than acceptable noise level. He had just drawn his foot back in preparation for a kick when she decided to make her presence known.

"Need a hand, Jim?"

He spun quickly at the unexpected voice. "Jeez Catherine, don't sneak up on people like that!" He looked from her to the machine and back again, a sheepish look creeping over his face. "Damn thing ate my money and now won't give me what I want."

She smiled at the petulant expression on his face. "What were you after?"

"The orange soda." Her puzzled frown queried his choice so he gave a quick shrug. "If I drink anymore coffee I'll start climbing these walls and soda's about the only other choice up here."

"You could always take a stroll downstairs to the cafeteria, you know?" Catherine suggested as she eyed up the machine in front of her. "There's a knack to this; Nick found it last night."

Using the heel of her hand, she gave the machine a sharp whack just above the coin slot then pressed the button for Jim's choice; seconds later she was rewarded by the satisfying clunk of a can falling into the opening below.

"Of course, it cost Nick about ten bucks and most of his sanity to work out what that knack was but he got there in the end." Snagging the can, she popped it open before holding it out for Brass to take.

"Thanks." He gestured towards a bench that sat further along the hallway. "Bit early to be heading in to the lab, isn't it?"

"Actually, that's where I've just come from." She stifled a yawn as she took a seat beside him. "Conrad called me in at about eleven o'clock this morning."

"Problem?"

"Heather Kessler phoned the lab early this morning; she hadn't seen the news and had been trying to get Gil on his cell all night. Two Highway Patrol officers stopped by her place last night looking for the driver of a white Lexus SUV that sideswiped another car in Pahrump yesterday morning. There's only minor damage and no one got the registration of the vehicle but, apparently, a check had been run on Heather's Lexus about ten minutes before the accident and they wanted to know where it was."

"What did she tell them?"

"The truth; that she'd loaned it to a friend." Catherine shrugged. "She did stress that he was not the type to drive off after an accident but they still want to check the SUV to make sure."

"I don't remember much about coming out of the townhouse yesterday but I do remember seeing the Lexus." Jim chuckled. "I'd like to see them find evidence of a minor collision on what's left of that. Does Heather know what state it's in now?"

"Yeah, we told her." Catherine told him. "Her only comment was 'that's what insurance is for'; she was far more concerned with Gil's condition than the cars. Anyway, there's no doubt it _was_ Grissom that hit the car; the timing certainly fits and there's not that many Lexus 570's on the road soConrad made a couple of phone calls and the whole thing's been settled; the other driver is willing to accept cash to fix the damage to his car and HP won't be pursuing the hit-and-run any further."

"Well that's good, anyway." Jim commented as he finished off the last of his drink; getting up from the bench, he walked over and binned the empty can. Catherine watched him coming back, noticing for the first time the shirt and slacks he was now attired in.

"They cancel your reservation here, Jim?"

"Actually, I did it myself late last night. I got a good six hours sleep after they took me back to my room then, when I woke up, I discharged myself; I didn't see any point in taking up a bed when I had no intention of staying in it so I called Ray and had him swing by the hotel to grab some clothes and I've been up here ever since."

"How's Gil doing?"

"He had a pretty good night. No real dramas, his temperature went up a bit a few hours ago so they've switched him to another antibiotic. The doctors seem pleased with his progress."

"No sign of waking?"

"He's trying." Jim told her with a smile. "There's still no real response to verbal commands but he's started pulling away from pain and he's hanging onto Sara at every opportunity so it's looks like he's getting closer." He gave a short laugh. "He's set off the alarm on the ventilator three times so far; almost gave us heart failure the first time it sounded but, according to the nurse, it was caused by him fighting against the respirator. They're in there testing him again just now to see if he can come off it altogether."

That's good." Catherine commented. "How's Sara holding up?"

"She's surprised me actually." He admitted. "Very calm, very composed; I never would have thought she was capable of the kind of patience she's shown over the past..." He checked his watch. "twenty-six hours. I think she's just grateful to have him back, more or less, in one piece."

"She's staying in there while they run their tests?"

"Yeah." He confirmed. "She a lot stronger than I am in that regard; I thought it was bad enough being in there watching the machine breathe for him but to see them disconnect the tube and then have to wait to see if he can handle it himself." Jim slowly shook his head. "Once was enough for me."

Catherine glanced at the door of the unit before looking up at the large clock on the wall. "Do you think they'll be long?" She asked Jim. "I've got some news for Sara and I'd really like to see Gil before I head back in for shift. I told everyone at the lab I'd let them know how he's doing."

"Lisa said she'd let me know when they were done; I don't think it'll be much longer."

Catherine nodded as she settled down to wait; turning her head, she watched Jim as he stared down the empty corridor. "Are you feeling better now, Jim?"

"Much." He responded, almost bashfully. "I can see _now _that what happened wasn't my fault but, yesterday... I don't know; I guess I just wasn't thinking clearly."

"It's called shock, Jim, and I think it was perfectly understandable under the circumstances." Reaching across, she placed a reassuring hand on his good arm. "How about the elbow? No permanent damage done?"

"Nope, Morgan checked it out this morning when he dropped by and he says it should heal just fine. He went over Gil's x-rays with Sara at the same time and, according to the films, there's no extra damage to his leg; the plates and screws are all in place and the bone is showing signs of healing."

"So, he didn't put any weight on it as he fell?"

"If he did, he got away with it." Jim shook his head in disbelief. "I guess it really was Grissom's lucky day after all."

"You know, I don't think we can really declare it that until we know for sure that he's going to be okay."

"He's made it this far, Cath; he's going to be fine."

"Sara's optimism seems to be rubbing off on you." Catherine commented. "What happened to that cynical, down-to-earth homicide detective that we all know and love?"

"Oh, I'm still cynical, don't ever doubt that but I also know Grissom and there's no way that he's going to let Sean Tate have the last word." He face broke into a smug smile. "Besides, he owes me a date and I am not about to let him stand me up."

Catherine tried and failed to muffle a laugh as she turned to him. "You and Gil are going out on a date?"

"Yep." Jim confirmed. "I asked him out when we were in the townhouse and he said yes."

"Dare I ask what you're planning to do on this date?"

"Well, you've heard of dinner and a movie? Our date is going to be more along the lines of dinner and a tattoo parlor."

"Oh my God!" Catherine stared at him in amazement. "You're going to tattoo him?"

"Hey, he just joined a very elite club and that is an integral part of the initiation."

"Sara won't let you; you do realize that, don't you?"

"Since she has a tattoo of her own I don't think she really has a say in it." Jim replied quickly. "Besides, she already owns most of him; all I want is a couple of inches below his ribs and another two on his back; she can hardly object to that."

"How many members are in this club of yours?" Catherine asked suspiciously.

"Well, after Gil completes all his membership requirements there will be..." Brass thought for a moment. "Two."

"He'll never do it."

"Sure he will." Jim maintained. "I'll wait until he's off his meds and has both legs back under him and then I'll take him out and get him drunk. As long as nobody tips him off beforehand, Grissom will be a fully fledged club member before the night is over."

"You've got it all planned out, haven't you." Catherine shook her head in amusement, smiling at the look of determination on Jim's face. "Just do me a favor when you go on this date of yours, will you? Take a video camera along; that's something I'd pay good money to see and I don't think I'll be the only one. You could probably make a fortune."

Brass grinned back, both of them enjoying the normalcy of the moment until they were brought back to reality as the SICU door swung open and Lisa stuck her head out. She smiled a welcome at Catherine before addressing Jim.

"They're finished with him now if you want to come back in."

After thanking the young nurse, Brass turned to the woman beside him. "You go in Cath; I'll wait out here until you're through."

"You're sure?"

"Now that I know Sara won't be left alone I might head downstairs after all." He told her as he got to his feet. "I grab an early dinner in the cafeteria and bring something back for her as well; maybe I can tempt her away for a while; even if it's just to sit out here for a break."

"I don't know how much luck you'll have but it's worth a try." Catherine said as she headed for the door; she turned back when she heard him call her name.

"Cath?" He gave her a conspiratorial wink. "Just remember; not a word to Sara, okay?"

"My lips are sealed." Catherine promised before turning from him once again and following the nurse back into the unit.

After washing her hands at the small sink by the entrance, she quickly made her way over to cubicle 8, pulling up short when she got a clear look at the room's occupant.

"Wow, no ventilator!" Although she kept her voice low, it was enough to draw Sara's attention.

"Hey Cath." From her seat on the right-hand side of the bed, Sara gave her a tired smile. "He passed the test with flying colors."

Catherine smiled back, noting the dark smudges beneath each eye, testament to the fact that Sara had had little, if any, sleep. Moving up the other side of the bed, she looked down at the still unconscious man in front of her.

Grissom lay exactly as he had when she'd last seen him; the fresh, white dressings that decorating his chest and abdomen competing for space with the leads and wires that connected him to the surrounding monitors. The only real difference that she could see was the face mask that had replaced the ventilator hose and endotracheal tube.

Unsure of what she could safely touch, Catherine settled on placing her hand lightly on the plaster cast that covered his lower leg. Watching her, Sara grinned at her reticence.

"Take his hand, Cath; you won't hurt him."

Sliding her hand over Grissom's, she curled her fingers in towards his palm with a gentle squeeze and was surprised when she felt his own fingers tighten around them before relaxing into a more comfortable hold. She looked up in amusement.

"He just squeezed my hand."

"He's been doing that for a while now." Sara confirmed. "He hasn't opened his eyes yet but he pushed the doctor's hands away when they were taking the tube out; he's not quite awake yet but I don't think it's too far away."

With a pleased smile, Catherine reached out with her free hand and pulled Jim's stool closer to the bed. Making herself comfortable, she spoke to Sara as she continued to watch Gil.

"I got a phone call this afternoon while I was at the lab." Glancing up, she saw Sara looking across at her. "Clare Ashton couldn't get medical clearance to fly down here so her neighbor offered to drive her. By the time they got to Hawthorne, Clare was in labor and they just made it to Mount Grant Hospital before her daughter put in an appearance. The baby's a month early and a little on the small side but both she and her mother are fine."

"That's good; I'm glad they're both okay." Sara smiled as she tried to smother a yawn.

"Have you had any rest at all?" Catherine asked. "It's been over twenty-for hours now since Gil came out of surgery; you haven't been here the whole time have you?"

"This chair's not the most comfortable bed around here but I did manage to get a little bit of sleep last night." Seeing Catherine's mouth start to open, she hurried on. "Before you say anything, I've already heard it all from Jim and I'm not leaving until Gil wakes up."

Coming over to the bedside to check the monitors, Lisa rolled her eyes at Catherine. "We even offered to set up a cot for her in a room down the hall but she refused; I guess there's only one person who's going to be able to convince her to get some sleep and, unfortunately, that's not you."

Seeing Sara stiffen slightly, Catherine tried to lighten the tone. "Yeah, Grissom's about the only person she's ever listened to and even that tends to be hit and miss." As the nurse went back to her desk, Catherine leaned forward. "Did the guys drop by this afternoon?"

"Yeah, the three of them were here just after lunch. Nick and Warrick headed off after about an hour but Greg stayed for quite a while." She glanced up at Catherine. "If he wasn't working tonight I think he'd still be here now."

Catherine hesitated slightly before asking her next question. "Uh, what do you want about the townhouse? Ecklie wants to have a cleanup crew go in and sort it all out but, if you don't want strangers going through the place, I don't mind rustling up the guys and doing it for you."

"Thanks Cath but, to be honest, I really don't care what happens with the place." Tightening her hold on Grissom's hand, she looked across the bed at her colleague. "I'm not going back there; neither of us is."

"But what about your stuff?" Catherine asked. "You've still got a lot of-"

She broke off suddenly as the hand she held tightened then flexed before pulling free from her grip; on the opposite side of the bed, Sara shot to her feet as she too lost her hold.

With his eyes still closed, Grissom groaned loudly and brought his left hand up as he tried to push the oxygen mask away from his face. Not wanting to get in the way, Catherine moved well back as she felt the nurse brush past her on her way to the bedside.

"No, Dr. Grissom." Lisa reached out and pulled his hand back down to the bed. "That stays where it is." Feeling him try to pull free again, she looked across at Sara. "Hold him down; we don't want that mask coming off."

When Sara had a tight grip on both arms, Lisa leaned closer and tried again. "Dr. Grissom? Gil? Can you open your eyes for me?"

Slowly both eyes opened and Grissom squinted up into the bright lights above him. Turning his head to the left he struggled to focus on the nurse beside him as she smiled down at him. "That's the way. Do you know where you are?"

Grissom frowned as he tried to concentrate then, ignoring her completely, he slowly moved his head to the right as he searched for a familiar face.

"Hey." Sara greeted him with a grin as he finally found her; she felt the tension in his arms ease as she spoke. "Finally decided to join us, huh?"

He remained silent and Sara cast a worried glanced over at the nurse, receiving an encouraging smile in return. Looking down again, she tightened her hold on his hand. "Do you remember what happened?"

His gaze shifted slightly as he searched his memory. Suddenly it came to him and his eyes widened in fear as he looked back again. "Jim?"

His voice was hoarse, the tissues of his throat irritated by the recently removed tube and he winced at the discomfort that talking caused.

"Jim's fine." She assured him. "He's right outside; you can see him in a little while."

He searched her face. "Tate?"

Sara hesitated slightly. "Tate's dead."

He stared at her a moment longer before giving a slight nod, his eyes drifting closed again. He mumbled one more word before sleep claimed him.

"Love."

"Love you too." Leaning over, Sara placed a gentle kiss to his forehead as Lisa quickly ran through his vital signs.

"Just sleeping." She assured them. "He'll be awake on and off for the next day or so. I'll have the doctor come over and check him out."

As the nurse left the small room, Sara felt behind her for her chair and pulling in back towards the bed, slumped down into it, Grissom's hand still clutched tightly in her own. Concerned, Catherine rounded the end of the bed before squatting down by her side.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, just relieved." She turned to face her. "I kept telling myself and everyone else he'd be fine and the doctors said it was just a matter of time before he woke up but I guess, deep done, I was actually afraid to believe it."

"I know what you mean; I was skeptical myself. He's been through so much over the past few weeks but he did it, Sara; he won." Catherine smiled. "And the important thing now is getting him better and back on his feet and you can't do that if you're not well yourself." Standing again, Catherine grabbed Sara's hand and urged her up. "That's why you're going to go out to the waiting room, find Jim and have him take you downstairs for some fresh air."

Sara opened her mouth to protest but she was cut off.

"You said you'd take a break when Gil woke up and, now that he has, I'm holding you to it." Catherine led her to the doorway of the cubicle.

"I don't want to leave just yet; the doctor's coming by and I-"

"Sara! Go!" Catherine wasn't taking no for an answer. "Grissom will be fine, I promise you; I'll stay with him until you get back but I want you take at least half an hour. Go for a stroll with Jim, eat the food he was bringing back for you and then you can call the guys and tell them the good news."

"If anything happens-" Sara began as she headed for the Unit's exit.

"You'll be the first one I call." Catherine rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Now go!"

Standing in the open doorway, Catherine watched until the heavy swinging door closed behind the younger woman before turning back and walking over towards the bed. Hearing footsteps, she looked up to see Lisa reenter the room.

"The doctor will be here in five minutes." Settling herself at the small desk, the nurse did a double-take at the empty seat. "Wow, you got her to take a break!"

"It wasn't easy." Catherine replied as she carefully picked up Grissom's hand. His fingers automatically curled around her own.

"You're a lucky man, Gil; don't you dare screw things up." Catherine smiled as he squeezed her hand. She started when her cell phone beeped with an incoming message and quickly pulled it from her pocket.

"Sorry." Catherine threw a sheepish glance at the nurse. "I should have turned it off." Flipping it open, she frowned at the screen.

"Problem?" Lisa asked looking up from the paperwork she was filling in.

" There's been a body found out by McCarran." Catherine closed her phone and replaced it in her pocket. "Well, it's going to have to wait."

"He'll be just fine if you need to go." Lisa told her. "I'll explain to Sara when she gets back; she'll understand."

"I know she will." She adjusted her hold on Gil's hand. "But I'm sure they can amuse themselves for a little while longer until I get there, and if not, they can call someone else in. Besides, the dead can wait." Looking down her friend sleeping peacefully in the bed, Catherine smiled as she threaded her fingers through his. "For tonight at least, I think the living are much more important."

TBC


	50. Chapter 50

**Lex Talionis**

**Epilogue**

Turning off the road, Sara tried to ease the Mercedes along the rutted driveway without disturbing her silent passenger but, less than half way along, a sharp intake of breath made her glance sideways.

"Sorry." She winced in sympathy as she watched Grissom place one hand against his chest and the other on his side as he tried to lessen the discomfort caused by the bumpy ground.

"Not your fault." He told her through gritted teeth. "I forgot it was this rough."

"You want me to stop?" She threw another quick look towards him. "We can walk the rest of the way if you like; I can come back for the car once you're settled."

"No, keep going, it's not much further." Shutting his eyes against the pain, Gil braced himself against the back of his seat as Sara followed the winding path to the house.

Finally pulling up in front of the white two-storey structure, she pulled the keys from the ignition and turned to face him.

"Okay?"

"Yeah." He managed a slight smile as he lightly rubbed the front of his shoulder. "Just give me a minute and I'll be good to go."

"I'll get our stuff out of the trunk and then grab your crutches." Sara said as she reached for the door handle. She glanced past Grissom towards the front door of the house. "Clare said she'd be here; I guess she's out the back somewhere."

Pulling the handle, she was about to push the door open when she jerked back in surprise at the sight of a large red dog sitting just feet from the car, hackles raised and teeth bared in a menacing welcome.

"Uh... Gil."

Leaning forward in his seat, Grissom looked past her and smiled. "I guess I forgot about her as well." Winding down his window, he whistled.

Sara watched as the dog cocked her head at the sound and hesitated slightly before curiosity won out over caution and she trotted round the front of the vehicle. Instantly recognizing her visitor, Murphy picked up speed as she rushed at the car door; almost launching herself through the window in her desperation to greet him.

Standing on her hind legs, head and shoulders through the opening, the Ridgeback all but pinned Gil to the seatback as she enthusiastically licked at any and every part of him she could reach. Sara tried to stifle a laugh but couldn't quite manage it.

"Just wait until she decides that you're a friend too." Grissom commented as he tried to duck another onslaught. "You won't be laughing then." Lifting his hand, he ruffled the dog's fur. "How you doing, Murph? Miss me?"

"Murphy!" The shrill yell caused both man and dog to look out through the windscreen. "Get down right now!"

Hurriedly pulling herself out of the window, the dog instantly dropped into a sit as Grissom pushed his door open and hauled himself out of the car to stand beside her. Holding onto the top of the open door, he placed his other hand on the dog's head as they both kept an eye on the approaching woman.

"Looks like we're in trouble, girl." Grissom commented as he heard Sara's door opening on the other side of the car.

Striding towards the pair, Clare Ashton fixed Grissom with a stern glare. "Are you encouraging my dog to misbehave?"

"I don't think she needs my encouragement." Gil pointed out as he watched Clare advancing. "She does a pretty good job all by herself."

He was almost knocked backwards as she walked straight into him, winding her arms tightly around his waist as she did.

"God, it so good to finally see you." Keeping one hand on his arm, Clare stepping back again and looked him up and down. "A bit more banged up than the last time you were here but not bad considering. How long has it been since the shooting? Six weeks?"

She knew immediately that she'd said the wrong thing.

Grissom tensed as his smile slipped away. "Something like that." He replied coolly as he turned away from her and back towards the car. Looking up, he met Sara's eyes as she watched him from the far side of the vehicle.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" She asked with an encouraging smile, hoping to diffuse the sudden atmosphere. Walking round the rear of the car, she came to stand beside him.

"Of course; sorry." Embarrassed by his faux pas, Grissom did the honors. "Clare Ashton, Sara Sidle; Sara, Clare."

"Don't be stupid." Clare swatted a hand towards him with grin as she took the few steps necessary to pull Sara into a quick hug. "I think Sara and I have spoken enough times on the phone not to need a formal introduction."

Relieved that he was no longer the center of attention, Grissom relaxed slightly as he looked around the front yard. "So, where's this daughter of yours, Clare? Put her to work already?"

"She's asleep in the house." Clare told him with a proud grin. "How about we take your stuff inside and then you can see her?"

After retrieving their luggage, she showed them upstairs and into the master bedroom. "I thought you could have this room while you're here."

"We don't want to put you out, Clare." Sara said as she watched their host place the smaller of the two overnight bags on the bed.

"It's no problem; really; I'll bunk in with the baby. It's only for the one night anyway." She looked hopefully at the two of them. "Unless, you've changed your plans and want to stay longer."

"No, we can't!" Gil's adamant declaration took both women by surprise and Sara scrambled quickly to try and soften his words.

"You know, we'd love to but we're taking a side trip into Reno and, possibly Carson City after that, so I'm afraid we won't have the time." She cast a sideways glance at Grissom as she spoke. "Besides, I have to be back at work in two days and I don't want to cut it too fine."

"That's alright; another time perhaps." Clare's smile couldn't quite hide her disappointment; she'd hoped for so much from this visit but, by the looks of things, it had all been in vain. Taking a deep breath she reached out and placed a hand on Grissom's elbow. "Now, how about dumping the rest of your stuff and coming to meet my daughter."

* * *

"She's beautiful, Clare" Grissom said quietly as they stood beside the crib. "She looks just like you."

Sara glanced over at him and was pleased to see that finally appeared to be relaxing.

"She does, doesn't she?" Clare smiled proudly as she gazed down at her sleeping daughter. "She's good too; hardly ever cries and she's feeding so well that she's already up to the weight she would have been if she'd gone full-term. Not only does she have her father's name it seems she has his appetite as well."

"Brianna's a beautiful name." Sara commented as she looked around the small room. "I love the furniture in here too."

"I can't take the credit for that; the day of the-" With a quick glance towards Grissom, Clare rephrased. "The morning after Gil left here last time, a truck came down the driveway with a delivery; I was expecting one box but what I got was almost an entire nursery." She gestured around the room. "Crib, change table, the lot; about the only things he left me to buy were clothes and diapers."

"Just as well I did since you had her the next day." Grissom remarked as he turned from the crib to take in the room as a whole. "You've painted too; I like the yellow."

"That was down to Charlie and his parents." She told him as they all moved out of the nursery. "They had the room decorated and all the furniture in place when I brought her home."

"How's he working out?"

"Charlie's great; I honestly don't know how I got along without him." Leading the way down the stairs, Clare headed for the kitchen. "He's over here at six every morning to help out with whatever needs done and then comes back again after school. He loves horses and he certainly knows his way around them." Checking the water level in the kettle, she turned it on to boil. "And, of course, having him here has helped rebuild my friendship with his mother; it was Kathy who was driving me to Vegas when I went into labor."

She turned to her guests. "Tea? Coffee?"

"I would love some tea." Sara said, pulling a chair out from the table and taking a seat. "Gil?"

"You know, I think I might pass." Looking over at Clare, he gave her an apologetic smile. "If you don't mind; I'm going to head up and take a nap."

"You alright?" She asked, brow furrowing in concern.

"Just a bit tired." He assured her. "An hour or two's sleep and I'll be fine."

They both watched him go and a minute or so later, they heard the sound of the bedroom door closing. In the silence that followed, Clare finished preparing their drinks before taking a seat opposite Sara.

"I guess I put my foot in it out there by the car, didn't I?"

"He can be a bit touchy about what happened." Sara admitted as she sipped he tea. "He doesn't really like to talk about it."

"I guess that's probably to be expected; after all, it hasn't really been all that long since it happened." Clare's eyes clouded as she remembered the day in question. "I know you said he was doing well when I spoke to you on the phone but how's he _really_ been?"

"He's doing great." Sara said, the enthusiasm in her voice not quite ringing true. "He bounced back from the shooting a lot better than anyone expected him to; his lung capacity is good and, as long as he keeps all his vaccinations up to date and tries to steer clear of infections, losing his spleen shouldn't really have much of an effect on him at all. The plaster on his leg is due to come off in a little over a week and he has his first physical therapy session the day after; according to his surgeon, he could be walking unaided within a couple of weeks."

"That's all physical, Sara." Clare pointed out as she absently played with the handle of her cup. "I was talking about mentally."

Knowing there was no point in further pretense; Sara put her tea back down with a weary sigh. "You know, he seemed to be handling things but recently... he's begun shutting down when anyone mentions that day." She shrugged. "At first I thought it was perhaps post-traumatic stress or even an aftereffect of the Post Concussion Syndrome he had when he first got hurt but now I'm not so sure."

"When did this start?" Clare narrowed her eyes as she regarded her visitor.

"A little over a week ago."

"Right about the time the two of you arranged to come here." Clare stated. "It's me, isn't it or, more precisely, who I am?"

Sara didn't bother trying to deny it.

"I did suggest postponing the trip, holding off until he was back on his feet properly, but he wouldn't hear of it. We followed the same route he took when he came up here last time and the closer we got to Fernley, the quieter he became. He spent the drive from Austin staring out the window, I actually thought he'd fallen asleep until I stopped for gas and noticed that he hadn't."

"I'm sorry, Sara; I feel like this is my fault. When he said he wanted to come up here to see Brianna, I encouraged him; it never occurred to me that he'd have problems with it."

"I don't think he knew himself." Sara told her.

"I said he had haunted eyes the last time he was here." Clare smiled sadly. "I guess maybe that ghost is still with him."

"You know, two weeks ago he was trying to find out how soon the doctors would clear him to return to the Lab and then, on the drive across here, he tells me that he's not sure he wants to work there anymore." Sara shook her head, confused. "He asked me if what I thought of moving to another city or maybe even somewhere out of state."

"So that's what your side trip is all about." Clare stated as she remembered the earlier comment. "What did you tell him?"

"That I'd go anywhere that he wanted to go and do anything that he wanted to do as long as we were doing it for the right reasons."

Picking up her cup, Clare stared at her guest. "You think he's running away?"

"I know he is and I can understand it too but... " Sara sighed. "How long can you run from something that's in your head? How far do you have to go until it doesn't matter anymore?"

Clare remained silent, knowing there was no answer to either of the questions.

"My real fear is that he'll eventually decide that I'm part of the problem too. If he can turn his back on a job that he loves and friends who will do anything to help him; who's to say that he won't turn his back on me?"

"That won't happen." Reaching across the table, Clare grasped Sara's hand. "I've heard the way he speaks about you and seen the looks he gives you; he's not about to turn his back on you, I sure of that."

"I hope you're right." Sara managed a smile. "It's probably not helping that we're still staying at Jim's. The townhouse sold over three weeks ago but we haven't even begun to look for a new home yet; between hospital and doctor visits and now this trip we just haven't had the time."

Before Clare could comment, a cry sounded from upstairs.

"Well, that's madam up." Getting to her feet, she headed towards the door. "With some luck I can get to her before she wakes Grissom."

Five minutes later she was back, Brianna cradled in her arms.

"Well, here she is; wide awake, freshly diapered and looking for some food." She announced as she casually handed the baby over to Sara. "You hold her while I get the bottle ready."

"Um... I'm not really all that good with kids." Sara declared as she stared at the bundle she now held.

"I used to think the same thing." Clare gave a laugh. "I never had any problems with foals but hand me a baby and I'd panic." She turned from her task at the bench and smiled. "You're doing fine, just support her head and relax; there's nothing to it."

Sara took her advice as she gazed down at the baby. "She really is beautiful." She smiled as a tiny fist closed tightly around her finger. "And strong too."

"She'll have to be if she's going to grow up around here." Clare announced as she tested the temperature of the formula. "That's one of the reasons I decided not to feed her myself, there's times around here when I just can't spare fifteen or twenty minutes; at least, if she's on a bottle I can hand her off to whoever isn't busy. Like you, for instance." She held the bottle out and, taking it, Sara guided it towards the waiting mouth. She looked up with a grin as Brianna began to feed.

"See, you're a natural." Retaking her seat, Clare watched her daughter as she began to speak. "I like Grissom; I liked him from the moment I met him and I'll be damned if any ghost is going to come between our friendship. As far as I'm concerned, my daughter probably wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Gil and I want him in her life." Lifting her gaze, she looked into Sara's eyes. "Do you think it would help if I spoke to him?"

"I don't know." Sara sighed. "I've tried countless times over the past week to get him to open up but he can be stubborn when he wants to be."

"We've got to do something." Clare pointed out.

Looking down at the baby she held and then up again to the woman sitting opposite, Sara nodded. "Let's see what we can come up with then."

* * *

Having woken to an empty house, Grissom let himself out the back door and crossed the yard to the stables in search of Sara and their host. Standing in the doorway, he paused for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the interior before entering properly.

Clare was busy preparing the night's feeds but looked up with a smile when she saw him appear. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah; thanks" He looked around with a frown. "Where's Sara?"

"Don't worry about her; she's in good hands." Putting down one bucket, Clare picked up the next. "Brianna and Murphy have taken her down to see the horses."

"That's clever of them." He managed a weak smile. "What way did they go? Maybe I can catch them up."

"Not with that leg you can't; the last thing you need now is to trip on a piece of ground the horses have churned up." She gestured towards some hay bales. "Take a seat; you can keep me company."

She could see the reluctance on his face and thought for a moment he was going to bolt but he finally moved across and sat down. Clare watched him place the crutches against the wall and then turn slightly, ensuring he was facing the open doorway and not her. Realizing that this may be her only chance to get him alone, she took a deep breath and hoped for the best.

"So, how have you been?" Continuing to fill the pails with chaff, she tried to keep her tone as bright as possible.

"Good." He answered automatically, his eyes fixed on the door.

Clare rolled her eyes at his response. "You've been quiet since you got here."

"Nothing much to say, I guess."

She frowned at the almost belligerent tone but chose to ignore it.

"We talked quite a bit when you stayed here last time; what's different now?"

Grissom sighed deeply. "Nothing; it's not important."

He started to turn and Clare knew he was about to leave. Slamming the bucket she was holding down beside the others, she moved quickly and grabbed the crutches from the wall before he could reach them.

"You're determined to make this difficult aren't you?" Walking to the far side of the stables, she lay both crutches down before striding back to stand in front of him. "Now tell me what's wrong. You were fine when I spoke to you on the phone but you turn up here and, suddenly, it's like we're strangers. You're polite and courteous but there's a distinct chill coming off you, Grissom and I don't like it."

He glared up at her for a minute before dropping his head to stare at the floor. "I'm sorry, I made a mistake; we shouldn't have come here."

"Why?" She pleaded as stared at him in concern. "When we first discussed it you were all for the idea; what's changed your mind?"

He remained silent.

"I'm pretty sure that you didn't come all this way just to ignore me, Gil, so what's wrong?"

Remembering that a change of subject brought him round before, Clare tried a different tack. "Sara tells me you were considering moving to Reno."

"It's just a thought." He gave a non-committal shrug. "They've been trying to poach me from Vegas for years now. Who knows, maybe it's time for a change."

"Do you think that will make things better? That that's where your future lies?"

Grissom head came up again as he considered her question. "I don't know."

"It's funny, isn't it? The last time you were here I was the one with the uncertain future; no husband, no money, a baby on the way and a murdering, psychotic brother." Clare paused when she saw him tense. "That _is_ what the problem is, isn't it Gil? The fact that you killed Sean."

"He's your brother, Clare." He quickly looked away as he corrected himself. "He _was _your brother."

"No." Standing quickly, she moved in front of him and squatted down, balancing herself with a hand on his knee. "I'm not sure when my brother actually died but I do know it's been a lot longer than six weeks and it didn't happen in a townhouse in Las Vegas. I don't know who the person was that you shot that day, Gil but I can promise you it wasn't the Sean that I knew."

"It doesn't matter who it was." His voice hardened. "It shouldn't have come to that at all; there should have been another way."

"Yes, there should have been but not for his sake; for yours." Reaching for his hand, she gripped it tightly. "Regardless of who pulled the trigger, Sean killed himself that day, Gil; the only thing you did was defend yourself and your friend and that is something I will _never _blame you for."

"Maybe you should." He suggested and Clare winced at the self-loathing in his tone.

"But if I did that I'd have to blame myself as well, wouldn't I?" Grissom quickly looked up and she smiled sadly. "But that's something I can't do either. I didn't have to help you when you turned up here, remember; I chose to do it and the reason I did that was because I knew he had to be stopped."

He was silent but at least this time he didn't look away.

"What would have happened if you hadn't come here when you did?" Clare asked. "You know I was only keeping quiet for the sake of the baby but, eventually, I'd have confronted him with what I knew and what then? How long would it have been before I went missing too? What would have happened to Brianna?"

She squeezed the hand she still held.

"Don't feel ashamed for what happened that day, Gil because, as far as I'm concerned, you saved both me and my daughter with your actions." Clare smiled as she felt his hand shift in hers to return the grasp. "And you gave me my husband back too. You know, it sounds weird but, one of the happiest moments of my life was when I got the call telling me they'd found Brian. To finally know for sure where he was and then to be able to give him a proper burial; that is something I will never be able to repay."

"We got lucky." He told her quietly. "One of the deputies up here identified the area immediately, after that, it was just a matter of confirming what was on the video."

"Luck or not, that's one favor I can never repay." With her free hand, she wiped away an escaping tear. "I feel like you've given me so much, Grissom but there's one more thing I want from you." Pausing a moment, she took a deep breath. "I need you to promise me that you won't let Sean come between us, he's taken so much from me already; please don't let him take you too."

Pulling her hand away from his, she wrapped both arms around him pleased when his own came up without any hesitation whatsoever. Grissom held her tightly and closed his eyes as he felt the tension and fear that had been building in him since the visit was agreed upon, draining from him. What had just happened was by no means an instant cure but he knew it was an important step on the path to recovery and with a relieved sigh; he relaxed for the first time in weeks.

They remained there, content in the silence of the stables, until a faint bark drew Clare's attention and, looking over Grissom's shoulder, she saw Sara in the distance heading back towards them. She smiled at the sight.

"You know it's funny." Pulling back slightly, she looked up at Grissom. "The person who told me she wasn't good with kids has not put my daughter down since she got her hands on her. You said you weren't sure what your future held? Turn around Gil because I'm pretty sure it's headed this way right now."

Turning to the open doorway, Grissom watched Sara enter the yard as she made her way towards them, both hands clasped securely around the baby carrier that was strapped to her chest as Murphy trotted along at her side.

"It's not that bad a picture is it?" Clare asked, amazed at the stunned look on his face.

"It's not that." Grissom admitted, unable to look away. "It's just something I never expected to see; Sara doesn't 'do' kids."

"I wouldn't bet on that if I were you; the two of you have been through a hell of a lot over the past couple of months and things like that have a habit of changing your priorities and the way you look at things." A thought occurred to her and she turned her back to the door to face him. "That wouldn't change anything between the two of you, would it?"

"No, definitely not." He didn't even have to think about it. "It might take a little getting used to but I could live with it."

"Good." Clare's grin was back. "Then, I'm going to help you out with the first piece of that picture; the rest, however, is all up to you."

Gil frowned at her, bemused. "I'm not sure I understand."

"You will." Turning from him, she headed for the door. "Wait here; I've got a phone call to make."

He watched her go, stopping halfway between the stable and the house as she had a quick word with Sara before running up the steps and disappearing through the back door. Shaking his head in disbelief at the conversation he had just been party to; Grissom settled himself once again on the hay bale as he waited for Sara.

He looked up with a smile as she entered.

"Nice walk?"

"Yeah, it's a big place Clare's got here." She took a seat next to him. "She's got her work cut out for her running it alone."

"She's not alone though, is she?" He gestured to the carrier. "She's got your new friend there to help her."

Sara looked down with a grin. "I guess the fresh air tired her out again; she's fast asleep."

He leaned in for a closer look. "You seem pretty comfortable there for someone who doesn't like kids."

"I never said I didn't like them." Sara quickly became defensive. "I just hadn't spent much time with them, especially little ones like this." Her hand came up and she traced a light circle on Brianna's back with her finger. "It's not so bad once you get used to it."

"You do realize there's more to them than you're seeing right now, don't you?" He pointed out with a grin.

"Whoa; back up!" Shocked, Sara quickly turned to face him. "I don't want one if that's what you're thinking."

Grissom chuckled at the expression on her face and, seeing his amusement, she smiled herself before looking down at the sleeping baby.

"Well... not right now anyway." She conceded. "But maybe it's something we could talk about a bit further down the track."

"Probably be best to have a home first, huh?" Grissom asked as he reached over and took her free hand. "And jobs, too."

"That probably would be best, yeah." She agreed.

"And, of course, friends to help us out with things like moving and painting and..." He broke into a grin. "maybe, someday, babysitting."

"You know, we have all of those in Vegas." She cocked her head. "Well, we don't have a home at the moment but that shouldn't be too hard to fix." She turned to face him. "Clare said the two of you had a talk."

"We did." He confirmed. "Not that I had much choice in the matter." He lifted his hands. "As you can see, she took away the crutches."

"She can be pretty determined when she wants to be."

"Yeah, she can."

"So... everything's better now?"

"'Everything' might take a while." He conceded. "When we go back home, I'll make an appointment to see Conrad and work out a schedule for going back to work but before that happens I think I should see about getting some counseling. Coming here and seeing Clare has helped a lot but there's still a long way to go."

"I can't tell you how happy it makes me to hear you say that." Leaning towards him, she placed her head on his shoulder. "I'm proud of you, you know that?"

He smiled when he realized that she wasn't alone; he was proud of himself too, but there was one last thing that had to be taken care of.

"You know; I think when we're at the hospital next week, I'll look into ways of getting rid of this damn scar." Slipping his free hand into the front of his shirt, he fingered the healing brand. "If I'm going to bury Sean Tate; I might as well do it properly."

* * *

"You're sure you won't stay another day?" Pushing against the screen door, Clare held it open for Grissom to pass through. "Now that you don't have to go to Reno, you're welcome to stay longer."

"I'm afraid we can't." Keeping his head down, Grissom concentrated on negotiating the front steps. "Sara spoke to the realtor last night and lined up a couple of places for us to see tomorrow so we need to be heading back."

Looking over at the Mercedes, he watched Sara stow the last of their bags in the trunk before closing it and moving toward the driver's door. It was only when she leaned against the side of the vehicle that his attention was drawn to their back seat passenger.

"What the hell is that?"

"That would be Hank." Clare answered with a grin. "Consider him a gift."

"Oh, no!" Grissom shook his head. "I don't want a dog."

"Sure you do; you just don't know it yet. He's fully house trained and he's had _some_ obedience training but Boxers can be a bit headstrong when they want to be and the Millers just don't have the time to spend teaching him right from wrong." Clare shrugged. "He needs a strong hand and you need a dog; it seems like a perfect match to me."

"I don't have the time for him either." Grissom argued. "Hell Clare, I don't even have a home to take him to."

"Actually, I called Jim and told him all about it." Sara smiled sheepishly. Opening the back door, she quickly grabbed the Boxer's leash and allowed him to jump down from the car. "He has no objection to having another house guest."

Gil eyed the large dog as he sniffed enthusiastically at the car's back tire before cocking his leg and letting rip. Giving his head a slight shake, Grissom's eyes rose to meet Sara's. "And this is okay with you?"

Sara shrugged. "Clare ran it by me last night before she finalized things with the Millers; it did take me a while to get used to the idea but now I think it'll be good for you."

As Grissom watched, Hank trotted past Sara to the front wheel and watered that as well. "Me?" He frowned. "How?"

"Hank will keep you occupied until you're cleared to go back to work and taking him for walks will be great exercise for your leg when that cast comes off."

Clare gave him a gentle prod. "Besides Gil, he's the first piece of the picture, remember?"

"I'm not going to win against you two, am I?" Grissom headed over towards the dog, Clare following behind him as Hank strained at the lead eager to meet the stranger coming towards him.

Stopping a few feet away, Gil watched as the dog tried to lunge towards him, Sara struggling hard to keep the large animal under control. Sighing in resignation, Gil gave him his first command.

"Sit!"

Instantly, the dog's hindquarters hit the ground, the powerful tail sweeping a path behind him as he wagged it enthusiastically. Putting his hand out, Gil let him sniff to his heart's content.

"You're going to pee on my car every chance you get, aren't you?" The tail picked up speed and Clare chuckled.

"Could have been worse; he might have peed _in _your car."

Pulling his hand back, Grissom turned on her. "You said he was house trained!"

"He is; I promise you." She grinned at him. "God Gil, can't you take a joke?"

He rolled his eyes at her before turning back to Sara. "Put him in the car; I guess we just got ourselves a dog."

With a triumphant smile, Sara tugged on the lead and urged Hank back onto the rear seat, closing the door securely behind him. As she did that, Grissom turned to face Clare.

"Now remember; as soon as we're settled, you and Brianna are coming to visit." Reaching out, he waited for her to take his hand before tugging her into a hug. "It'll give me a chance to repay some of the hospitality you've shown us."

"You don't owe me anything but we'd love to come down; just let me know when you want us and we'll be there." Stepping back, she cocked her head towards the car. "Now, you better get going before that dog of yours starts getting impatient."

Sara waited until he was in the car before stepping forward to say her goodbye.

"You know, both times he's been up here, you've helped him out so much; I really don't know how I can thank you for everything you've done."

"There's no need, really." Clare assured her with a smile. "Just get him home and take good care of him; that's the only thanks I want."

"I will." Leaning forward, Sara gave her a quick hug. "Thanks for having us."

"Any time." Stepping back from the car, Clare watched as Sara got into the driver's seat and, after a quick wave, reversed the Mercedes before heading back down the winding drive.

The car was almost at the end of the driveway and Sara was silently congratulating herself on a smoother navigation of the bumpy track when, once again, a groan came from the neighboring seat.

"Sorry." She risked a sideway glance. "I was trying to be careful this time."

"It's not you." Grissom grumbled as he turned in his seat to push the Boxer back away from him. "I just got a river of drool down the back of my neck." Sara stifled a giggle as he turned back. "And what the hell are we going to do about his name?"

"Leave it." Sara stated as she pulled the car to a halt at the end of the drive. "He's used to it now and it really wouldn't be fair to change it on him."

"But Hank?"

"I really don't have a problem with it." Sara shrugged. "Besides, I don't regret that time I spent with Hank; if nothing else he taught me exactly what or, more precisely who, I really wanted." Leaning over, she nudged Grissom with her shoulder. "Even if it did take that person another two years to get his head out of his ass."

Ignoring her, Grissom frowned at the big dog again. "I suppose I'll get used to it." He muttered dubiously as he turned back. "You really think we can handle this."

"You, know, after the last couple of months, I think we can handle anything if we put our minds to it." Taking her foot off the brake, Sara turned the Mercedes out into the street and quickly picked up speed. "Now, last chance to change your mind; we can still fit in Reno and Carson City if you want to."

"I think we're going to be too busy to even consider moving somewhere else; we've got jobs to think about, a home to find and not to mention a dog to train so, thanks for the offer but I think I'll pass." Grissom told her with a smile. "Besides, there's only one place I want to be right now, honey. Let's go home."

FIN

A/N: Personal thanks need to go to the following people: SylvieT, ELM22, bgreer, Moonstarer, JellybeanChiChi, SunnyBaby, SevernSound, kudostogill, csiKathy _(_you are _so_ going to regret that offer ;-)), and finally everyone else for sticking with this (and me) for the year it's taken me to get here. Thanks you all so much!


End file.
